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Class 

Book 



1 





Copyright N°_ L b ■ 

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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 









































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Copyright, 1923, by 
DUFFIELD & COMPANY 


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Printed in U. S. A. 

©C1A759G45 


OCT 1 9 73 





ILLUSTRATIONS 


“He swore to be his man, to obey him, 
and to pay him feudal service for 
his lands.”. Frontispiece 

“The cry was heard by the little gar¬ 
rison in the Turret Chamber, 
bringing hope and joy.” . Facing Page 90 

“Safe! Safe!” cried Richard, joy¬ 
fully. . . . “Oh, how glad I 
am!”. Facing Page 132 

“The Epte! The Epte! There is 
Normandy! Look up and see 
your dukedom.” .... Facing Page 168 











THE LITTLE DUKE 







THE LITTLE DUKE 


CHAPTER I 

On a bright autumn day, as long ago as the year 
943, there was a great bustle in the Castle of 
Bayeux in Normandy. 

The hall was large and low, the roof arched, 
and supported on thick short columns, almost 
like the crypt of a Cathedral; the walls were 
thick, and the windows, which had no glass, were 
very small, set in such a depth of wall that there 
was a wide deep window seat, upon which the 
rain might beat, without reaching the interior 
of the room. And even if it had come in, there 
was nothing for it to hurt, for the walls were of 
rough stone, and the floor of tiles. There was a 
fire at each end of this great dark apartment, but 
there were no chimneys over the ample hearths, 
and the smoke curled about in thick white folds 


2 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


in the vaulted roof, adding to the wreaths of 
soot, which made the hall look still darker. 

The fire at the lower end was by far the largest 
and hottest. Great black cauldrons hung over 
it, and servants, both men ad women, with red 
faces, bare and grimed arms, and long iron hooks, 
or pots and pans, were busied around it. At the 
other end, which was raised about three steps 
above the floor of the hall, other servants were 
engaged. Two young maidens were strewing 
fresh rushes on the floor; some men were setting 
up a long table of rough boards, supported on 
trestles, and then ranging upon it silver cups, 
drinking horns, and wooden trenchers. 

Benches were placed to receive most of the 
guests, but in the middle, at the place of honour, 
was a high chair with very thick crossing legs, 
and the arms curiously carved with lions’ faces 
and claws; a clumsy wooden footstool was set 
in front, and the silver drinking-cup on the table 
was of far more beautiful workmanship than the 
others, richly chased with vine leaves and grapes, 
and figures of little boys with goats’ legs. If 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


3 

that cup could have told its story, it would have 
been a strange one, for it had been made long 
since, in the old Roman times, and been carried 
off from Italy by some Northman pirate. 

From one of these scenes of activity to the 
other, there moved a stately old lady: her long 
thick light hair, hardly touched with grey, was 
bound round her head, under a tall white cap, 
with a band passing under her chin: she wore 
a long sweeping dark robe, with wide hanging 
sleeves, and thick gold ear-rings and necklace, 
which had possibly come from the same quarter 
as the cup. She directed the servants, inspected 
both the cookery and arrangements of the table, 
held council with an old steward, now and then 
looked rather anxiously from the window, as if 
expecting some one, and began to say something 
about fears that these loitering youths would not 
bring home the venison in time for Duke Wil¬ 
liam’s supper. 

Presently, she looked up rejoiced, for a few 
notes of a bugle-horn were sounded; there was a 
clattering of feet, and in a few moments there 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


4 

bounded into the hall a boy of about eight years 
old, his cheeks and large blue eyes bright with 
air and exercise, and his long light-brown hair 
streaming behind him, as he ran forward flour¬ 
ishing a bow in his hand, and crying out, “I hit 
him, I hit him! Dame Astrida, do you hear? 
’Tis a stag of ten branches, and I hit him in the 
neck.” 

“You, my Lord Richard! You killed 
him?” 

“Oh, no, I only struck him. It was Osmond’s 
shaft that took him in the eye, and-—Look you, 
Fru Astrida, he came thus through the wood, and 
I stood here, it might be, under the great elm 
with my bow thus”- And Richard was be¬ 

ginning to act over again the whole scene of the 
deer-hunt, but Fru, that is to say, Lady Astrida, 
was too busy to listen, and broke in with, “Have 
they brought home the haunch?” 

“Yes, Walter is bringing it. I had a long 
arrow—” 

A stout forester was at this instant seen bring¬ 
ing in the venison, and Dame Astrida hastened 



THE LITTLE DUKE 


5 

to meet it, and gave directions, little Richard fol¬ 
lowing her all the way, and talking as eagerly 
as if she was attending to him, showing how he 
shot, how Osmond shot, how the deer bounded, 
and how it fell, and then counting the branches 
of its antlers, always ending with, “This is some¬ 
thing to tell my father. Do you think he will 
come soon?” 

In the meantime two men entered the hall, 
one about fifty, the other, one- or two-and- 
twenty, both in hunting dresses of plain leather, 
crossed by broad embroidered belts, supporting 
a knife, and a bugle-horn. The elder was broad- 
shouldered, sun-burnt, ruddy, and rather stern¬ 
looking; the younger, who was also the taller, 
was slightly made, and very active, with a bright 
keen grey eye, and merry smile. These were 
Dame Astrida’s son, Sir Eric de Centeville, and 
her grandson, Osmond; and to their care Duke 
William of Normandy had committed his only 
child, Richard, to be fostered, or brought up. 1 

It was always the custom among the North¬ 
men, that young princes should thus be put un- 


6 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


der the care of some trusty vassal, instead of 
being brought up at home, and one reason why 
the Centevilles had been chosen by Duke Wil¬ 
liam was, that both Sir Eric and his mother spoke 
only the old Norwegian tongue, which he wished 
young Richard to understand well, whereas, in 
other parts of the Duchy, the Normans had for¬ 
gotten their own tongue, and had taken up what 
was then called the Langued’oui, a language be¬ 
tween German and Latin, which was the begin¬ 
ning of French. 

On this day, Duke William himself was ex¬ 
pected at Bayeux, to pay a visit to his son before 
setting out on a journey to settle the disputes 
between the Counts of Flanders and Montreuil, 
and this was the reason of Fru Astrida’s great 
preparations. No sooner had she seen the 
haunch placed upon a spit, which a little boy was 
to turn before the fire, than she turned to dress 
something else, namely, the young Prince Rich¬ 
ard himself, whom she led off to one of the upper 
rooms, and there he had full time to talk, while 
she, great lady though she was, herself combed 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


7 

smooth his long flowing curls, and fastened his 
short scarlet cloth tunic, which just reached to 
his knee, leaving his neck, arms, and legs bare. 
He begged hard to be allowed to wear a short, 
beautifully ornamented dagger at his belt, but 
this Fru Astrida would not allow. 

“You will have enough to do with steel and 
dagger before your life is at an end,” said she, 
“without seeking to begin over soon.” 

“To be sure I shall,” answered Richard. “I 
will be called Richard of the Sharp Axe, or the 
Bold Spirit, I promise you, Fru Astrida. We 
are as brave in these days as the Sigurds and 
Ragnars you sing of! I only wish there were 
serpents and dragons to slay here in Normandy.” 

“Never fear but you will find even too many 
of them,” said Dame Astrida; “there be dragons 
of wrong here and everywhere, quite as venom¬ 
ous as any in my Sagas.” 

“I fear them not,” said Richard, but half un¬ 
derstanding her, “if you would only let me have 
the dagger! But, hark! hark!” he darted to the 


8 THE LITTLE DUKE 

window. “They come, they come! There is the 
banner of Normandy. 55 

Away ran the happy child, and never rested 
till he stood at the bottom of the long, steep, 
stone stair, leading to the embattled porch. 
Thither came the Baron de Centeville, and his 
son, to receive their Prince. Richard looked up 
at Osmond, saying, “Let me hold his stirrup, 55 
and then sprang up and shouted for joy, as under 
the arched gateway there came a tall black horse, 
bearing the stately form of the Duke of Nor¬ 
mandy. His purple robe was fastened round 
him by a rich belt, sustaining the mighty weapon, 
from which he was called “William of the Long 
Sword, 55 his legs and feet were cased in linked 
steel chainwork, his gilded spurs were on his 
heels, and his short brown hair was covered by 
his ducal cap of purple, turned up with fur, and 
a feather fastened in by a jewelled clasp. His 
brow was grave and thoughtful, and there was 
something both of dignity and sorrow in his face, 
at the first moment of looking at it, recalling the 
recollection that he had early lost his young 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


9 

wife, the Duchess Emma, and that he was beset 
by many cares and toils; but the next glance con¬ 
veyed encouragement, so full of mildness were 
his eyes, and so kind the expression of his lips. 

And now, how bright a smile beamed upon the 
little Richard, who, for the first time, paid him 
the duty of a pupil in chivalry, by holding the 
stirrup while he sprang from his horse. Next, 
Richard knelt to receive his blessing, which was 
always the custom when children met their par¬ 
ents. The Duke laid his hand on his head, say¬ 
ing, “God of His mercy bless thee, my son/’ and 
lifting him in his arms, held him to his breast, 
and let him cling to his neck and kiss him again 
and again, before setting him down, while Sir 
Eric came forward, bent his knee, kissed the 
hand of his Prince, and welcomed him to his 
Castle. 

It would take too long to tell all the friendly 
and courteous words that were spoken, the greet¬ 
ing of the Duke and the noble old Lady Astrida, 
and the reception of the Barons who had come 
in the train of their Lord. Richard was bidden 


10 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


to greet them, but, though he held out his hand 
as desired, he shrank a little to his father’s side, 
gazing at them in dread and shyness. 

There was Count Bernard of Harcourt, called 
the “Dane,” 2 with his shaggy red hair and beard, 
to which a touch of grey had given a strange 
unnatural tint, his eyes looking fierce and wild 
under his thick eyebrows, one of them mis¬ 
shapen in consequence of a sword cut, which had 
left a broad red and purple scar across both cheek 
and forehead. There, too, came tall Baron 
Rainulf of Ferrieres, cased in a linked steel 
hauberk, that rang as he walked, and the men- 
at-arms, with helmets and shields, looking as if 
Sir Eric’s armour that hung in the hall had come 
to life and was walking about. 

They sat down to Fru Astrida’s banquet, the 
old Lady at the Duke’s right hand, and the 
Count of Harcourt on his left; Osmond carved 
for the Duke, and Richard handed his cup and 
trencher. All through the meal, the Duke and 
his Lords talked earnestly of the expedition on 
which they were bound to meet Count Arnulf of 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


11 

Flanders, on a little islet in the river Somme, 
there to come to some agreement, by which 
Arnulf might make restitution to Count Herluin 
of Montreuil, for certain wrongs which he had 
done him. 

Some said that this would be the fittest time 
for requiring Arnulf to yield up some towns on 
his borders, to which Normandy had long laid 
claim, but the Duke shook his head, saying that 
he must seek no selfish advantage, when called 
to judge between others. 

Richard was rather tired of their grave talk, 
and thought the supper very long; but at last 
it was over, the Grace was said, the boards 
which had served for tables were removed, and 
as it was still light, some of the guests went to 
see how their steeds had been bestowed, others 
to look at Sir Eric’s horses and hounds, and 
others collected together in groups. 

The Duke had time to attend to his little 
boy, and Richard sat upon his knee and talked, 
told about all his pleasures, how his arrow had 
hit the deer to-day, how Sir Eric let him ride 


( 


12 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


out to the chase on his little pony, how Osmond 
would take him to bathe in the cool bright river, 
and how he had watched the raven’s nest in the 
top of the old tower. 

Duke William listened, and smiled, and 
seemed as well pleased to hear as the boy was 
to tell. “And, Richard,” said he at last, “have 
you nought to tell me of Father Lucas, and his 
great book 4 ? What, not a word? Look up, 
Richard, and tell me how it goes with the 
learning.” 3 

“Oh, father!” said Richard, in a low voice, 
playing with the clasp of his father’s belt, 
and looking down, “I don’t like those crabbed 
letters on the old yellow parchment.” 

“But you try to learn them, I hope!” said 
the Duke. 

“Yes, father, I do, but they are very hard, and 
the words are so long, and Father Lucas will 
always come when the sun is so bright, and 
the wood so green, that I know not how to bear 
to be kept poring over those black hooks and 
strokes.” 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


13 

“Poor little fellow,” said Duke William, 
smiling and Richard, rather encouraged, went 
on more boldly. “You do not know this read¬ 
ing, noble father?” 

“To my sorrow, no,” said the Duke. 

“And Sir Eric cannot read, nor Osmond, nor 
any one, and why must I read, and cramp my 
fingers with writing, just as if I was a clerk, 
instead of a young Duke?” Richard looked up 
in his father’s face, and then hung his head, as 
if half-ashamed of questioning his will, but the 
Duke answered him without displeasure. 

“It is hard, no doubt, my boy, to you now, 
but it will be better for you in the end. I 
would give much to be able myself to read 
those holy books which I must now only hear 
read to me by a clerk, but since I have had the 
wish, I have had no time to learn as you have 
now.” 

“But Knights and Nobles never learn,” said 
Richard. 

“And do you think it a reason they never 
should? But you are wrong, my boy, for the 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


14 

Kings of France and England, the Counts of 
Anjou, of Provence, and Paris, yes, even King 
Hako of Norway, 4 can all read. 

“I tell you, Richard, when the treaty was 
drawn up for restoring this King Louis to his 
throne, I was ashamed to find myself one of the 
few crown vassals who could not write his name 
thereto. 5 ’ 

“But none is so wise or so good as you, 
father, 55 said Richard, proudly. “Sir Eric often 
says so.” 

“Sir Eric loves his Duke too well to see his 
faults,” said Duke William; “but far better 
and wiser might I have been, had I been taught 
by such masters as you may be. And hark, 
Richard, not only can all Princes here read, but 
in England, King Ethelstane would have every 
Noble taught, they study in his own palace, 
with his brothers, and read the good words that 
King Alfred the truth-teller put into their own 
tongue for them.” 

“I hate the English,” said Richard, raising 
his head and looking very fierce. 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


15 


“Hate them? And wherefore?” 

“Because they traitorously killed the brave 
Sea King Ragnar! Fru Astrida sings his death- 
song, which he chanted when the vipers were 
gnawing him to death, and he gloried to think 
how his sons would bring the ravens to feast 
upon the Saxon. Oh! had I been his son, how 
I would have carried on the feud! How I 
would have laughed when I cut down the false 
traitors, and burnt their palaces!” Richard’s 
eyes kindled, and his words, as he spoke the old 
Norse language, flowed into the sort o£ wild 
verse in which the Sagas or legendary songs 
were composed, and which, perhaps, he was un¬ 
consciously repeating. 

Duke William looked grave. 

“Fru Astrida must sing you no more such 
Sagas,” said he, “if they fill your mind with 
these revengeful thoughts, fit only for the wor¬ 
shippers of Odin and Thor. Neither Ragnar 
nor his sons knew better than to rejoice in this 
deadly vengeance, but we, who are Christians, 
know that it is for us to forgive.” 


i6 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


“The English had slain their father!” said 
Richard, looking up with wondering dissatisfied 
eyes. 

“Yes, Richard, and I speak not against them, 
for they were even as we should have been, had 
not King Harold the fair-haired driven your 
grandfather from Denmark. They had not been 
taught the truth, but to us it has been said, 
‘Forgive, and ye shall be forgiven.’ Listen to 
me, my son, Christian as is this nation of ours, 
this duty of forgiveness is too often neglected, 
but let it not be so with you. Bear in mind, 
whenever you see the Cross 6 marked on our 
banner, or carved in stone on the Churches, 
that it speaks of forgiveness to us; but of that 
pardon we shall never taste if we forgive not 
our enemies. Do you mark me, boy?” 

Richard hesitated a little, and then said, 
“Yes, father, but I could never have pardoned, 
had I been one of Ragnar’s sons.” 

“It may be that you will be in their case, 
Richard,” said the Duke, “and should I fall, as 
it may well be I shall, in some of the contests 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


17 

that tear to pieces this unhappy Kingdom of 
France, then, remember what I say now. I 
charge you, on your duty to God and to your 
father, that you keep up no feud, no hatred, but 
rather that you should deem me best revenged, 
when you have with heart and hand, given the 
fullest proof of forgiveness to your enemy. 
Give me your word that you will.” 

“Yes, father,” said Richard, with rather a 
subdued tone, and resting his head on his 
father’s shoulder. There was a silence for a 
little space, during which he began to revive 
into playfulness, to stroke the Duke’s short 
curled beard, and play with his embroidered 
collar. 

In so doing, his fingers caught hold of a sil¬ 
ver chain, and pulling it out with a jerk, he 
saw a silver key attached to it. “Oh, what is 
that?” he asked eagerly. “What does that key 
unlock?” 

“My greatest treasure,” replied Duke Wil¬ 
liam, as he replaced the chain and key within 
his robe. 


18 THE LITTLE DUKE 

“Your greatest treasure, father! Is that your 
coronet?” 

“You will know one day,” said his father, 
putting the little hand down from its too busy 
investigations; and some of the Barons at that 
moment returning into the hall, he had no more 
leisure to bestow on his little son. 

The next day, after morning service in the 
Chapel, and breakfast in the hall, the Duke 
again set forward on his journey, giving Rich¬ 
ard hopes he might return in a fortnight’s time, 
and obtaining from him a promise that he would 
be very attentive to Father Lucas, and very 
obedient to Sir Eric de Centeville. 


CHAPTER II 


One evening Fru Astrida sat in her tall chair 
in the chimney corner, her distaff with its load 
of flax in her hand, while she twisted and drew 
out the thread, and her spindle danced on the 
floor. Opposite to her sat, sleeping in his chair, 
Sir Eric de Centeville; Osmond was on a low 
bench within the chimney corner, trimming and 
shaping with his knife some feathers of the wild 
goose, which were to fly in a different fashion 
from their former one, and serve, not to wing 
the flight of a harmless goose, but of a sharp 
arrow. 

The men of the household sat ranged on 
benches on one side of the hall, the women on 
the other; a great red fire, together with an im¬ 
mense flickering lamp which hung from the ceil¬ 
ing, supplied the light; the windows were 
closed with wooden shutters, and the whole 

apartment had a cheerful appearance. Two or 

19 


20 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


three large hounds were reposing in front of the 
hearth, and among them sat little Richard of 
Normandy, now smoothing down their broad 
silken ears; now tickling the large cushions of 
their feet with the end of one of Osmond’s 
feathers; now fairly pulling open the eyes of 
one of the good-natured sleepy creatures, which 
only stretched its legs, and remonstrated with 
a sort of low groan, rather than a growl. The 
boy’s eyes were, all the time, intently fixed on 
Dame Astrida, as if he would not lose one word 
of the story she was telling him; how Earl 
Rollo, his grandfather, had sailed into the 
mouth of the Seine, and how Archbishop 
Franco, of Rouen, had come to meet him and 
brought him the keys of the town, and how 
not one Neustrian of Rouen had met with harm 
from the brave Northmen. Then she told him 
of his grandfather’s baptism, and how during 
the seven days that he wore his white baptismal 
robes, he had made large gifts to all the chief 
churches in his dukedom of Normandy. 

“Oh, but tell of the paying homage!” said 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


21 


Richard; “and how Sigurd Bloodaxe threw 
down simple King Charles! Ah! how would I 
have laughed to see it!” 

“Nay, nay, Lord Richard,” said the old lady, 
“I love not that tale. That was ere the Nor¬ 
man learnt courtesy, and rudeness ought rather 
to be forgotten than remembered, save for the 
sake of amending it. No, I will rather tell 
you of our coming to Centeville, and how 
dreary I thought these smooth meads, and broad 
soft gliding streams, compared with mine own 
father s fiord in Norway, shut in with the tall 
black rocks, and dark pines above them, and 
far away the snowy mountains rising into the 
sky. Ah! how blue the waters were in the long 
summer days when I sat in my father’s boat in 
the little fiord, and-” 

Dame Astrida was interrupted. A bugle 
note rang out at the castle gate; the dogs started 
to their feet, and uttered a sudden deafening 
bark; Osmond sprung up, exclaiming, “Hark!” 
and trying to silence the hounds; and Richard 
running to Sir Eric, cried, “Wake, wake, Sir 



22 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


Eric, my father is come! Oh, haste to open the 
gate, and admit him.” 

“Peace, dogs!” said Sir Eric, slowly rising, as 
the blast of the horn was repeated. “Go, Os¬ 
mond, with the porter, and see whether he who 
comes at such an hour be friend or foe. Stay 
you here, my Lord,” he added, as Richard was 
running after Osmond; and the little boy obeyed, 
and stood still, though quivering all over with 
impatience. 

“Tidings from the Duke, I should guess,” 
said Fru Astrida. “It can scarce be himself at 
such an hour.” 

“Oh, it must be, dear Fru Astrida!” said 
Richard. “He said he would come again. 
Hark, there are horses’ feet in the court! I am 
sure that is his black charger’s tread! And I 
shall not be there to hold his stirrup! Oh! 
Sir Eric, let me go.” 

Sir Eric, always a man of few words, only 
shook his head, and at that moment steps were 
heard on the stone stairs. Again Richard was 
about to spring forward, when Osmond re- 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


23 

turned, his face showing, at a glance, that some¬ 
thing was amiss; but all that he said was, 
“Count Bernard of Harcourt, and Sir Rainulf 
de Ferrieres, 55 and he stood aside to let them 
pass. 

Richard stood still in the midst of the hall, 
disappointed. Without greeting to Sir Eric, or 
to any within the hall, the Count of Harcourt 
came forward to Richard, bent his knee before 
him, took his hand, and said with a broken 
voice and heaving breast, “Richard, Duke of 
Normandy, I am thy liegeman and true vas¬ 
sal 55 ; then rising from his knees while Rainulf 
de Ferrieres went through the same form, the 
old man covered his face with his hands and 
wept aloud. 

“Is it even so? 55 said the Baron de Centeville; 
and being answered by a mournful look and 
a sigh from Ferrieres, he too bent before the boy, 
and repeated the words, “I am thy liegeman 
and true vassal, and swear fealty to thee for 
my castle and barony of Centeville. 55 

“Oh, no, no! 55 cried Richard, drawing back 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


24 

his hand in a sort of agony, feeling as if he was 
in a frightful dream from which he could not 
awake. “What means it? Oh! Fru Astrida, 
tell me what means it? Where is my father?’ 5 

“Alas, my child!” said the old lady, putting 
her arm round him, and drawing him close to 
her, whilst her tears flowed fast, and Richard 
stood, reassured by her embrace, listening with 
eyes open wide, and deep oppressed breathing, 
to what was passing between the four nobles, 
who spoke earnestly among themselves, with¬ 
out much heed of him. 

“The Duke dead!” repeated Sir Eric de 
Centeville, like one stunned and stupefied. 

“Even so,” said Rainulf, slowly and sadly, 
and the silence was only broken by the long- 
drawn sobs of old Count Bernard. 

‘ 'But how ? When ? Where ?’ ’ broke forth Sir 
Eric, presently. “There was no note of battle 
when you went forth. Oh, why was not I at 
his side? 55 

“He fell not in battle, 55 gloomily replied Sir 
Rainulf. 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


25 

“Ha! could sickness cut him down so 
quickly?” 

“It was not sickness,” answered Ferrieres. 
“It was treachery. He fell in the Isle of Pec- 
quigny, by the hand of the false Fleming!” 

“Lives the traitor yet 4 ?” cried the Baron de 
Centeville, grasping his good sword. 

“He lives and rejoices in his crime,” said 
Ferrieres, “safe in his own merchant towns.” 

“I can scarce credit you, my Lords!” said Sir 
Eric. “Our Duke slain, and his enemy safe, 
and you here to tell the tale!” 

“I would I were stark and stiff by my Lord’s 
side!” said Count Bernard, “but for the sake 
of Normandy, and of that poor child, who is 
like to need all that ever were friends to his 
house. I would that mine eyes had been 
blinded for ever, ere they had seen that sight! 
And not a sword lifted in his defence! Tell 
you how it passed, Rainulf! My tongue will 
not speak it!” 

He threw himself on a bench and covered 
his face with his mantle, while Rainulf de 


26 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


Ferrieres proceeded: “You know how in an 
evil hour our good Duke appointed to meet 
this caitiff, Count of Flanders, in the Isle of 
Pecquigny, the Duke and Count each bringing 
twelve men with them, all unarmed. Duke 
Alan of Brittany was one on our side, Count 
Bernard here another, old Count Bothon and 
myself; we bore no weapon—would that we 
had—but not so the false Flemings. Ah me! 
I shall never forget Duke William’s lordly pres¬ 
ence when he stepped ashore, and doffed his 
bonnet to the knave Arnulf. 55 

“Yes,” interposed Bernard. “And mark you 
not the words of the traitor, as they met? ‘My 
Lord/ quoth he, ‘you are my shield and de¬ 
fence. 5 6 Would that I could cleave his treason¬ 
hatching skull with my battle-axe. 55 

“So, 55 continued Rainulf, “they conferred to¬ 
gether, and as words cost nothing to Arnulf, 
he not only promised all restitution to the paltry 
Montreuil, but even was for offering to pay 
homage to our Duke for Flanders itself; but 
this our William refused, saying it were foul 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


27 

wrong to both King Louis of France, and 
Kaiser Otho of Germany, to take from them 
their vassal. They took leave of each other 
in all courtesy, and we embarked again. It 
was Duke William’s pleasure to go alone in a 
small boat, while we twelve were together in 
another. Just as we had nearly reached our 
own bank, there was a shout from the Flemings 
that their Count had somewhat further to say 
to the Duke, and forbidding us to follow him, 
the Duke turned his boat and went back again. 
No sooner had he set foot on the isle,” pro¬ 
ceeded the Norman, clenching his hands, and 
speaking between his teeth, “than we saw one 
Fleming strike him on the head with an oar; 
he fell senseless, the rest threw themselves 
upon him, and the next moment held up their 
bloody daggers in scorn at us! You may well 
think how we shouted and yelled at them, and 
plied our oars like men distracted, but all in 
vain, they were already in their boats, and ere 
we could even reach the isle, they were on the 
other side of the river, mounted their horses, 


28 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


fled with coward speed, and were out of reach 
of a Norman’s vengeance. 55 

“But they shall not be so long!” cried Rich¬ 
ard, starting forward; for to his childish fancy 
this dreadful history was more like one of 
Dame Astrida’s legends than a reality, and at 
the moment his thought was only of the black¬ 
ness of the treason. “Oh, that I were a man 
to chastise them! One day they shall feel- 55 

He broke off short, for he remembered how 
his father had forbidden his denunciations of 
vengeance, but his words were eagerly caught 
up by the Barons, who, as Duke William had 
said, were far from possessing any temper of 
forgiveness, thought revenge a duty, and were 
only glad to see a warlike spirit in their new 
Prince. 

“Ha! say you so, my young Lord? 55 ex¬ 
claimed old Count Bernard, rising. “Yes, and 
I see a sparkle in your eye that tells me you 
will one day avenge him nobly! 55 

Richard drew up his head, and his heart 
throbbed high as Sir Eric made answer, “Ay, 



THE LITTLE DUKE 


29 

truly, that will he! You might search Nor¬ 
mandy through, yea, and Norway likewise, ere 
you would find a temper more bold and free. 
Trust my word, Count Bernard, our young 
Duke will be famed as widely as ever were 
his forefathers!” 

“I believe it well!” said Bernard. “He hath 
the port of his grandfather, Duke Rollo, and 
much, too, of his noble father! How say you, 
Lord Richard, will you be a valiant leader of 
the Norman race against our foes?” 

“That I will!” said Richard, carried away 
by the applause excited by those few words of 
his. “I will ride at your head this very 
night if you will but go to chastise the false 
Flemings.” 

“You shall ride with us to-morrow, my Lord,” 
answered Bernard, “but it must be to Rouen, 
there to be invested with your ducal sword 
and mantle, and to receive the homage of your 
vassals.” 

Richard drooped his head without replying, 
for this seemed to bring to him the perception 


30 THE LITTLE DUKE 

that his father was really gone, and that he 
should never see him again. He thought of 
all his projects for the day of his return, how 
he had almost counted the hours, and had looked 
forward to telling him that Father Lucas was 
well pleased with him! And now he should 
never nestle into his breast again, never hear his 
voice, never see those kind eyes beam upon him. 
Large tears gathered in his eyes, and ashamed 
that they should be seen, he sat down on a foot¬ 
stool at Fru Astrida’s feet, leant his forehead on 
his hands, and thought over all that his father 

had done and said the last time they were 

* 

together. He fancied the return that had been 
promised, going over the meeting and the greet¬ 
ing, till he had almost persuaded himself that 
this dreadful story was but a dream. But when 
he looked up, there were the Barons, with 
their grave mournful faces, speaking of the 
corpse, which Duke Alan of Brittany was escort¬ 
ing to Rouen, there to be buried beside the old 
Duke Rollo, and the Duchess Emma, Richard’s 
mother. Then he lost himself in wonder how 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


3 i 

that stiff bleeding body could be the same as 
the father whose arm was so lately around him, 
and whether his father’s spirit knew how he was 
.thinking of him; and in these dreamy thoughts, 
the young orphan Duke of Normandy, forgotten 
by his vassals in their grave councils, fell asleep, 
and scarce wakened enough to attend to his 
prayers, when Fru Astrida at length remem¬ 
bered him, and led him away to bed. 

When Richard awoke the next morning, he 
could hardly believe that all that had passed 
in the evening was true, but soon he found 
that it was but too real, and all was prepared 
for him to go to Rouen with the vassals; indeed, 
it was for no other purpose than to fetch him 
that the Count of Harcourt had come to Bayeux. 
Fru Astrida was quite unhappy that “the child,” 
as she called him, should go alone with the 
warriors; but Sir Eric laughed at her, and said 
that it would never do for the Duke of Nor¬ 
mandy to bring his nurse with him in his first 
entry into Rouen, and she must be content to 


32 THE LITTLE DUKE 

follow at some space behind under the escort of 
Walter the huntsman. 

So she took leave of Richard, charging both 
Sir Eric and Osmond to have the utmost care 
of him, and shedding tears as if the parting was 
to be for a much longer space; then he bade 
farewell to the servants of the castle, received 
the blessing of Father Lucas, and mounting his 
pony, rode off between Sir Eric and Count 
Bernard. Richard was but a little boy, and he 
did not think so much of his loss, as he rode 
along in the free morning air, feeling himself a 
Prince at the head of his vassals, his banner 
displayed before him, and the people coming 
out wherever he passed to gaze on him, and call 
for blessings on his name. Rainulf de Ferrieres 
carried a large heavy purse filled with silver 
and gold, and whenever they came to these 
gazing crowds, Richard was well pleased to 
thrust his hands deep into it, and scatter hand¬ 
fuls of coins among the gazers, especially where 
he saw little children. 

They stopped to dine and rest in the middle 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


33 

of the day, at the castle of a Baron, who, as 
soon as the meal was over, mounted his horse, 
and joined them in their ride to Rouen. So 
far it had not been very different from Richard’s 
last journey, when he went to keep Christmas 
there with his father; but now they were be¬ 
ginning to come nearer the town, he knew the 
broad river Seine again, and saw the square 
tower of the Cathedral, and he remembered how 
at that very place his father had met him, and 
how he had ridden by his side into the town, 
and had been led by his hand up to the hall. 

His heart was very heavy, as he recollected 
there was no one now to meet and welcome 
him; scarcely any one to whom he could even 
tell his thoughts, for those tall grave Barons 
had nothing to say to such a little boy, and 
the very respect and formality with which they 
treated him, made him shrink from them still 
more, especially from the grim-faced Bernard; 
and Osmond, his own friend and playfellow, 
was obliged to ride far behind, as inferior in 
rank. 


34 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


They entered the town just as it was grow¬ 
ing dark. Count Bernard looked back and 
arrayed the procession; Eric de Centeville bade 
Richard sit upright and not look weary, and 
then all the Knights held back while the little 
Duke rode alone a little in advance of them 
through the gateway. There was a loud shout 
of “Long live the little Duke!” and crowds 
of people were standing round to gaze upon his 
entry, so many that the bag of coins was soon 
emptied by his largesses. The whole city was 
like one great castle, shut in by a wall and 
moat, and with Rollo’s Tower rising at one end 
like the keep of a castle, and it was thither 
that Richard was turning his horse, when the 
Count of Harcourt said, “Nay, my Lord, to the 
Church of our Lady.” 7 

It was then considered a duty to be paid to 
the deceased, that their relatives and friends 
should visit them as they lay in state, and 
sprinkle them with drops of holy water, and 
Richard was now to pay this token of respect. 
He trembled a little, and yet it did not seem 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


35 

quite so dreary, since he should once more look 
on his father’s face, and he accordingly rode 
towards the Cathedral. It was then very un¬ 
like what it is now; the walls were very thick, 
the windows small and almost buried in heavy 
carved arches, the columns within were low, 
clumsy, and circular, and it was usually so dark 
that the vaulting of the roof could scarcely be 
seen. 

Now, however, a whole flood of light poured 
forth from every window, and when Richard 
came to the door, he saw not only the two tall 
thick candles that always burnt on each side of 
the Altar, but in the Chancel stood a double row 
ranged in a square, shedding a pure, quiet 
brilliancy throughout the building, and chiefly 
on the silver and gold ornaments of the Altar. 
Outside these lights knelt a row of priests in 
dark garments, their heads bowed over their 
clasped hands, and their chanted psalms sound¬ 
ing sweet, and full of soothing music. Within 
that guarded space was a bier, and a form lay 


on it. 


36 THE LITTLE DUKE 

Richard trembled still more with awe, and 
would have paused, but he was obliged to pro¬ 
ceed. He dipped his hand in the water of the 
font, crossed his brow, and came slowly on, 
sprinkled the remaining drops on the lifeless 
figure, and then stood still. There was an op¬ 
pression on his breast as if he could neither 
breathe nor move. 

There lay William of the Long Sword, like 
a good and true Christian warrior, arrayed in 
his shining armour, his sword by his side, his 
shield on his arm, and a cross between his 
hands, clasped upon his breast. His ducal 
mantle of crimson velvet, lined with ermine, 
was round his shoulders, and, instead of a hel¬ 
met, his coronet was on his head; but, in contrast 
with this rich array, over the collar of the 
hauberk, was folded the edge of a rough hair 
shirt, which the Duke had worn beneath his 
robes, unknown to all, until his corpse was dis¬ 
robed of his blood-stained garments. His face 
looked full of calm, solemn peace, as if he had 
gently fallen asleep, and was only awaiting 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


37 


the great call to awaken. There was not a 
single token of violence visible about him, save 
that one side of his forehead bore a deep purple 
mark, where he had first been struck by the blow 
of the oar which had deprived him of sense. 

“See you that, my Lord 4 ?” said Count Ber¬ 
nard, first breaking the silence, in a low, deep, 
stern voice. 

Richard had heard little for many hours past 
save counsels against the Flemings, and plans 
of bitter enmity against them; and the sight of 
his murdered father, with that look and tone 
of the old Dane, fired his spirit, and breaking 
from his trance of silent awe and grief, he ex¬ 
claimed, “I see it, and dearly shall the traitor 
Fleming abye it!” Then, encouraged by the 
applauding looks of the nobles, he proceeded, 
feeling like one of the young champions of 
Fru Astrida’s songs. His cheek was coloured, 
his eye lighted up, and he lifted his head, so 
that the hair fell back from his forehead; he 
laid his hand on the hilt of his father’s sword, 
and spoke on in words, perhaps, suggested by 


38 THE LITTLE DUKE 

some sage. “Yes, Arnulf of Flanders, know 
that Duke William of Normandy shall not rest 
unavenged! On this good sword I vow, that, 
as soon as my arm shall have strength-” 

The rest was left unspoken, for a hand was 
laid on his arm. A priest, who had hitherto 
been kneeling near the head of the corpse, had 
risen, and stood tall and dark over him, and, 
looking up, he recognized the pale, grave 
countenance of Martin, Abbot of Jumieges, his 
father’s chief friend and councillor. 

“Richard of Normandy, what sayest thou?” 
said he, sternly. “Yes, hang thy head, and 
reply not, rather than repeat those words. Dost 
thou come here to disturb the peace of the dead 
with clamours for vengeance? Dost thou vow 
strife and anger on that sword which was never 
drawn, save in the cause of the poor and dis¬ 
tressed? Wouldst thou rob Him, to whose 
service thy life has been pledged, and devote 
thyself to that of His foe? Is this what thou 
hast learnt from thy blessed father?” 

Richard made no answer, but he covered his 



THE LITTLE DUKE 


39 

face with his hands, to hide the tears which 
were fast streaming. 

“Lord Abbot, Lord Abbot, this passes!” ex¬ 
claimed Bernard the Dane. “Our young Lord 
is no monk, and we will not see each spark of 
noble and knightly spirit quenched as soon as 
it shows itself.” 

“Count of Harcourt,” said Abbot Martin, 
“are these the words of a savage Pagan, or of 
one who has been washed in yonder blessed 
font? Never, while I have power, shalt thou 
darken the child’s soul with thy foul thirst 
of revenge, insult the presence of thy master 
with the crime he so abhorred, nor the temple 
of Him who came to pardon, with thy hatred. 
Well do I know, ye Barons of Normandy, 
that each drop of your blood would willingly 
be given, could it bring back our departed 
Duke, or guard his orphan child; but, if ye 
have loved the father, do his bidding—lay aside 
that accursed spirit of hatred and vengeance; 
if ye love the child, seek not to injure his soul 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


40 

more deeply than even his bitterest foe, were 
it Arnulf himself, hath power to hurt him .’ 5 

The Barons were silenced, whatever their 
thoughts might be, and Abbot Martin turned to 
Richard, whose tears were still dropping fast, 
through his fingers, as the thought of those last 
words of his father returned more clearly upon 
him. The Abbot laid his hand on his head, and 
spoke gently to him. “These are tears of a 
softened heart, I trust,” said he. “I well be¬ 
lieve that thou didst scarce know what thou 
wert saying.” 

“Forgive me!” said Richard, as well as he 
could speak. 

“See there,” said the priest, pointing to the 
large Cross over the Altar, “thou knowest the 
meaning of that sacred sign?” 

Richard bowed his head in assent and 
reverence. 

“It speaks of forgiveness,” continued the 
Abbot. “And knowest thou who gave that 
pardon? The Son forgave His murderers; the 


THE LITTLE DUKE 41 

Father them who slew His Son. And shalt 
thou call for vengeance?” 

“But oh!” said Richard, looking up, “must 
that cruel, murderous traitor glory unpunished 
in his crime, while there lies—” and again his 
voice was cut off by tears. 

“Vengeance shall surely overtake the sinner,” 
said Martin, “the vengeance of the Lord, and in 
His own good time, but it must not be of thy 
seeking. Nay, Richard, thou art of all men 
the most bound to show love and mercy to 
Arnulf of Flanders. Yes, when the hand of the 
Lord hath touched him, and bowed him down 
in punishment for his crime, it is then, that 
thou, whom he hath most deeply injured, 
shouldst stretch out thine hand to aid him, and 
receive him with pardon and peace. If thou 
dost vow aught on the sword of thy blessed 
father, in the sanctuary of thy Redeemer, let 
it be a Christian vow.” 

Richard wept too bitterly to speak, and Ber¬ 
nard de Harcourt, taking his hand, led him 
away from the Church. 


CHAPTER III 


Duke William of the Long Sword was buried 
the next morning in high pomp and state, with 
many a prayer and psalm chanted over his 
grave. 

When this was over, little Richard, who had 
all the time stood or knelt nearest the corpse, 
in one dull heavy dream of wonder and sor¬ 
row, was led back to the palace, and there his 
long, heavy, black garments were taken off, 
and he was dressed in his short scarlet tunic, 
his hair was carefully arranged, and then he 
came down again into the hall, where there was 
a great assembly of Barons, some in armour, 
some in long furred gowns, who had all been 
attending his father’s burial. Richard, as he 
was desired by Sir Eric de Centeville, took off 
his cap, bowed low in reply to the reverences 
with which they all greeted his entrance, and 
he then slowly crossed the hall, and descended 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


43 

the steps from the door, while they formed into 
a procession behind him, according to their 
ranks—the Duke of Brittany first, and then 
all the rest, down to the poorest knight who 
held his manor immediately from the Duke of 
Normandy. 

Thus, they proceeded, in slow and solemn 
order, till they came to the church of our Lady. 
The clergy were there already, ranged in ranks 
on each side of the Choir; and the Bishops, 
in their mitres and rich robes, each with his 
pastoral staff in hand, were standing round 
the Altar. As the little Duke entered, there 
arose from all the voices in the Chancel the 
full, loud, clear chant of Te Deum Laudamus , 
echoing among the dark vaults of the roof. To 
that sound, Richard walked up the Choir, to a 
large, heavy, crossed-legged, carved chair, 
raised on two steps, just before the steps of 
the Altar began, and there he stood, Bernard 
de Harcourt and Eric de Centeville on each 
side of him, and all his other vassals in due 
order, in the Choir. 


44 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


After the beautiful chant of the hymn was 
ended, the service for the Holy Communion 
began. When the time came for the offering, 
each noble gave gold or silver; and, lastly, 
Rainulf of Ferrieres came up to the step of the 
Altar with a cushion, on which was placed a 
circlet of Gold, the ducal coronet; and another 
Baron following him closely, carried a long, 
heavy sword, with a cross handle. The Arch¬ 
bishop of Rouen received both coronet and 
sword, and laid them on the Altar. Then the 
service proceeded. At that time the rite of Con¬ 
firmation was administered in infancy, and Rich¬ 
ard, who had been confirmed by his godfather, 
the Archbishop of Rouen, immediately after his 
baptism, knelt in solemn awe to receive the 
other Holy Sacrament from his hands, as soon 
as all the clergy had communicated. 8 

When the administration was over, Richard 
was led forward to the step of the Altar by 
Count Bernard, and Sir Eric, and the Arch¬ 
bishop, laying one hand upon both his, as he 
held them clasped together, demanded of him, 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


45 

in the name of God, and of the people of Nor¬ 
mandy, whether he would be their good and 
true ruler, guard them from their foes, main¬ 
tain truth, punish iniquity, and protect the 
Church. 

“I will!” answered Richard’s young, trem¬ 
bling voice, “So help me God!” and he knelt, 
and kissed the book of the Holy Gospels, which 
the Archbishop offered him. 

It was a great and awful oath, and he dreaded 
to think that he had taken it. He still knelt, 
put both hands over his face, and whispered, 
“O God, my Father, help me to keep it.” 

The Archbishop waited till he rose, and then, 
turning him with his face to the people, said, 
“Richard, by the grace of God, I invest thee 
with the ducal mantle of Normandy!” 

Two of the Bishops then hung round his 
shoulders a crimson velvet mantle, furred with 
ermine, which, made as it was for a grown man, 
hung heavily on the poor child’s shoulders, and 
lay in heaps on the ground. The Archbishop 
then set the golden coronet on his long, flow- 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


46 

ing hair, where it hung so loosely on the little 
head, that Sir Eric was obliged to put his 
hand to it to hold it safe; and, lastly, the long, 
straight, two-handed sword was brought and 
placed in his hand, with another solemn bidding 
to use it ever in maintaining the right. It 
should have been girded to his side, but the 
great sword was so much taller than the little 
Duke, that, as it stood upright by him, he was 
obliged to raise his arm to put it round the 
handle. 

He then had to return to his throne, which 
was not done without some difficulty, encum¬ 
bered as he was, but Osmond held up the train 
of his mantle, Sir Eric kept the coronet on his 
head, and he himself held fast and lovingly the 
sword, though the Count of Harcourt offered 
to carry it for him. He was lifted up to his 
throne, and then came the paying him homage; 
Alan, Duke of Brittany, was the first to kneel 
before him, and with his hand between those of 
the Duke, he swore to be his man, to obey him, 
and pay him feudal service for his dukedom of 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


47 

Brittany. In return, Richard swore to be his 
good Lord, and to protect him from all his foes. 
Then followed Bernard the Dane, and many 
another, each repeating the same formulary, as 
their large rugged hands were clasped within 
those little soft fingers. Many a kind and lov¬ 
ing eye was bent in compassion on the orphan 
child; many a strong voice faltered with earnest¬ 
ness as it pronounced the vow, and many a 
brave, stalwart heart heaved with grief for the 
murdered father, and tears flowed down the 
war-worn cheeks which had met the fiercest 
storms of the northern ocean, as they bent be¬ 
fore the young fatherless boy, whom they 
loved for the sake of his conquering grand¬ 
father, and his brave and pious father. Few 
Normans were there whose hearts did not glow 
at the touch of those small hands, with a love 
almost of a parent, for their young Duke. 

The ceremony of receiving homage lasted 
long and Richard, though interested and 
touched at first, grew very weary; the crown 
and mantle were so heavy, the faces succeeded 


48 THE LITTLE DUKE 

each other like figures in an endless dream, and 
the constant repetition of the same words was 
very tedious. He grew sleepy, he longed to 
jump up, to lean to the right or left, or to 
speak something besides that regular form. He 
gave one great yawn, but it brought him such 
a frown from the stern face of Bernard, as quite 
to waken him for a few minutes, and make 
him sit upright, and receive the next vassal 
with as much attention as he had shown the 
first, but he looked imploringly at Sir Eric, as 
if to ask if it ever would be over. At last, far 
down among the Barons, came one at whose 
sight Richard revived a little. It was a boy 
only a few years older than himself, perhaps 
about ten, with a pleasant brown face, black 
hair, and quick black eyes which glanced, with 
a look between friendliness and respect, up 
into the little Duke’s gazing face. Richard 
listened eagerly for his name, and was refreshed 
at the sound of the boyish voice which pro¬ 
nounced, “I, Alberic de Montemar, am thy 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


49 

liegeman and vassal for my castle and barony 
of Montemar sur Epte.” 

When Alberic moved away, Richard fol¬ 
lowed him with his eyes as far as he could to 
his place in the Cathedral, and was taken by 
surprise when he found the next Baron kneeling 
before him. 

The ceremony of homage came to an end at 
last, and Richard would fain have run all the 
way to the palace to shake off his weariness, 
but he was obliged to head the procession again; 
and even when he reached the castle hall his 
toils were not over, for there was a great state 
banquet spread out, and he had to sit in the 
high chair where he remembered climbing on 
his father’s knee last Christmas-day, all the 
time that the Barons feasted round, and held 
grave converse. Richard’s best comfort all 
this time was in watching Osmond de Cente- 
ville and Alberic de Montemar, who, with the 
other youths who were not yet knighted, were 
waiting on those who sat at the table. At last 
he grew so very weary, that he fell fast asleep 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


50 

in the corner of his chair, and did not wake 
till he was startled by the rough voice of Ber¬ 
nard de Harcourt, calling him to rouse up, and 
bid the Duke of Brittany farewell. 

“Poor child!” said Duke Alan, as Richard 
rose up, startled, “he is over-wearied with this 
day’s work. Take care of him, Count Bernard; 
thou art a kindly nurse, but a rough one for 
such a babe. Ha! my young Lord, your colour 
mantles at being called a babe! I crave your 
pardon, for you are a fine spirit. And hark 
you, Lord Richard of Normandy, I have little 
cause to love your race, and little right, I trow, 
had King Charles the Simple to call us free 
Bretons liegemen to a race of plundering North¬ 
ern pirates. To Duke Rollo’s might, my father 
never gave his homage; nay, nor did I yield it 
for all Duke William’s long sword, but I did 
pay it to his generosity and forbearance, and 
now I grant it to thy weakness and to his noble 
memory. I doubt not that the recreant Frank, 
Louis, whom he restored to his throne, will 
strive to profit by thy youth and helplessness, 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


5i 

and should that be, remember that thou hast 
no surer friend than Alan of Brittany. Fare 
thee well, my young Duke.” 

“Farewell, Sir,” said Richard, willingly giv¬ 
ing his hand to be shaken by his kind vassal, 
and watching him as Sir Eric attended him from 
the hall. 

“Fair words, but I trust not the Breton,” 
muttered Bernard; “hatred is deeply ingrained 
in them.” 

“He should know what the Frank King is 
made of,” said Rainulf de Ferrieres; “he was 
bred up with him in the days that they were 
both exiles at the court of King Ethelstane of 
England.” 

“Ay, and thanks to Duke William that either 
Louis or Alan are not exiles still. Now we 
shall see whose gratitude is worth most, the 
Frank’s or the Breton’s. I suspect the Norman 
valour will be the best to trust to.” 

“Yes, and how will Norman valour prosper 
without treasure? Who knows what gold is in 
the Duke’s coffers?” 


52 THE LITTLE DUKE 

There was some consultation here in a low 
voice, and the next thing Richard heard dis¬ 
tinctly was, that one of the Nobles held up a 
silver chain and key, 9 saying that they had been 
found on the Duke’s neck, and that he had 
kept them, thinking that they doubtless led to 
something of importance. 

“Oh, yes!” said Richard, eagerly, “I know 
it. He told me it was the key to his greatest 
treasure.” 

The Normans heard this with great interest, 
and it was resolved that several of the most 
trusted persons, among whom were the Arch¬ 
bishop of Rouen, Abbot Martin of Jumieges, 
and the Count of Harcourt, should go immedi¬ 
ately in search of this precious hoard. Richard 
accompanied them up the narrow rough stone 
stairs, to the large dark apartment, where his 
father had slept. Though a Prince’s chamber, 
it had little furniture; a low uncurtained bed, 
a Cross on a ledge near its head, a rude table, a 
few chairs, and two large chests, were all it 
contained. Harcourt tried the lid of one of 


THE LITTLE DUKE 53 

the chests: it opened, and proved to be full 
of wearing apparel; he went to the other, which 
was smaller, much more carved, and orna¬ 
mented with very handsome iron-work. It was 
locked, and putting in the key, it fitted, the 
lock turned, and the chest was opened. The 
Normans pressed eagerly to see their Duke’s 
greatest treasure. 

It was a robe of serge, and a pair of sandals, 
such as were worn in the Abbey of Jumieges. 

“Ha! is this all? What didst say, child?” 
cried Bernard the Dane, hastily. 

“He told me it was his greatest treasure!” 
repeated Richard. 

“And it was!” said Abbot Martin 

Then the good Abbot told them the history, 
part of which was already known to some of 
them. About five or six years before, Duke 
William had been hunting in the forest of 
Jumieges, when he had suddenly come on the 
ruins of the Abbey, which had been wasted 
thirty or forty years previously by the Sea- 
King, Hasting. Two old monks, of the origi- 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


54 

nal brotherhood, still survived, and came forth 
to greet the Duke, and offer him their 
hospitality. 

“Ay!” said Bernard, “well do I remember 
their bread; we asked if it was made of fir- 
bark, like that of our brethren of Norway.” 

William, then an eager, thoughtless young 
man, turned with disgust from this wretched 
fare, and throwing the old men some gold, 
galloped on to enjoy his hunting. In the course 
of the sport, he was left alone, and encountered 
a wild boar, which threw him down, trampled 
on him, and left him stretched senseless on the 
ground, severely injured. His companions com¬ 
ing up, carried him, as the nearest place of 
shelter, to the ruins of Jumieges, where the two 
old monks gladly received him in the remain¬ 
ing portion of their house. As soon as he re¬ 
covered his senses, he earnestly asked their 
pardon for his pride, and the scorn he had 
shown to the poverty and patient suffering 
which he should have reverenced. 

William had always been a man who chose 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


55 

the good and refused the evil, but this accident, 
and the long illness that followed it, made him 
far more thoughtful and serious than he had 
ever been before; he made preparing for death 
and eternity his first object, and thought less 
of his worldly affairs, his wars, and his ducal 
state. He rebuilt the old Abbey, endowed it 
richly, and sent for Martin himself from France, 
to become the Abbot; he delighted in nothing 
so much as praying there, conversing with the 
Abbot, and hearing him read holy books; and 
he felt his temporal affairs, and the state and 
splendour of his rank, so great a temptation, 
that he had one day come to the Abbot, and 
entreated to be allowed to lay them aside, and 
become a brother of the order. But Martin 
had refused to receive his vows. He had told 
him that he had no right to neglect or forsake 
the duties of the station which God had ap¬ 
pointed him; that it would be a sin to leave the 
post which had been given him to defend; and 
that the way marked out for him to serve God 
was by doing justice among his people, and 


56 THE LITTLE DUKE 

using his power to defend the right. Not till 
he had done his allotted work, and his son was 
old enough to take his place as ruler of the 
Normans, might he cease from his active duties, 
quit the turmoil of the world, and seek the re¬ 
pose of the cloister. It was in this hope of 
peaceful retirement, that William had delighted 
to treasure up the humble garments that he 
hoped one day to wear in peace and holiness. 

“And oh! my noble Duke!” exclaimed Abbot 
Martin, bursting into tears, as he finished his 
narration, “the Lord hath been very gracious 
unto thee! He has taken thee home to thy rest, 
long before thou didst dare to hope for it.” 

Slowly, and with subdued feelings, the Nor¬ 
man Barons left the chamber; Richard, whom 
they seemed to have almost forgotten, wan¬ 
dered to the stairs, to find his way to the room 
where he had slept last night. He had not 
made many steps before he heard Osmond’s 
voice say, “Here, my Lord”; he looked up, saw 
a white cap at a doorway a little above him, 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


57 

he bounded up and flew into Dame Astrida’s 
outstretched arms. 

How glad he was to sit in her lap, and lay 
his wearied head on her bosom, while, with a 
worn-out voice, he exclaimed, “Oh, Fru Astrida! 
I am very, very tired of being Duke of 
Normandy!” 


CHAPTER IV 


Richard of Normandy was very anxious to 
know more of the little boy whom he had seen 
among his vassals. 

“Ah! the young Baron < 3 e Montemar,” said 
Sir Eric. “I knew his father well, and a brave 
man he was, though not of northern blood. He 
was warden of the marches of the Epte, and 
was killed by your father’s side in the inroad 
of the Viscount du Cotentin, 10 at the time when 
you were born, Lord Richard.” 

“But where does he live? Shall I not see him 
again?” 

“Montemar is on the bank of the Epte, in 
the domain that the French wrongfully claim 
from us. He lives there with his mother, and 
if he be not yet returned, you shall see him 
presently. Osmond, go you and seek out the 
lodgings of the young Montemar, and tell him 
the Duke would see him.” 

58 


THE LITTLE DUKE 59 

Richard had never had a playfellow of his 
own age, and his eagerness to see Alberic de 
Montemar was great. He watched from the 
window, and at length beheld Osmond enter¬ 
ing the court with a boy of ten years old by 
his side, and an old grey-headed Squire, with a 
golden chain to mark him as a Seneschal or 
Steward of the Castle, walking behind. 

Richard ran to the door to meet them, hold¬ 
ing out his hand eagerly. Alberic uncovered 
his bright dark hair, bowed low and gracefully, 
but stood as if he did not exactly know what 
to do next. Richard grew shy at the same 
moment, and the two boys stood looking at 
each other somewhat awkwardly. It was easy 
to see that they were of different races, so 
unlike were the blue eyes, flaxen hair, and fair 
face of the young Duke, to the black flashing 
eyes and olive cheeks of his French vassal, who, 
though two years older, was scarcely above him 
in height; and his slight figure, well-propor¬ 
tioned, active and agile as it was, did not give 
the same promise of strength as the round limbs 


6 o 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


and large-boned frame of Richard, which even 
now seemed likely to rival the gigantic stature 
of his grandfather, Earl Rollo the Ganger. 

For some minutes the little Duke and the 
young Baron stood surveying each other with¬ 
out a word, and old Sir Eric did not improve 
matters by saying, “Well, Lord Duke, here he 
is. Have you no better greeting for him?” 

“The children are shame-faced,” said Fru 
Astrida, seeing how they both coloured. “Is 
your Lady mother in good health, my young 
sir?” 

Alberic blushed more deeply, bowed to the 
old northern lady, and answered fast and low 
in French, “I cannot speak the Norman tongue.” 

Richard, glad to say something, interpreted 
Fru Astrida’s speech, and Alberic readily made 
courteous reply that his mother was well, and 
he thanked the Dame de Centeville, a French 
title which sounded new to Fru Astrida’s ears. 
Then came the embarrassment again, and Fru 
Astrida at last said, “Take him out, Lord Rich- 


THE LITTLE DUKE 61 

ard; take him to see the horses in the stables, or 
the hounds, or what not.” 

Richard was not sorry to obey, so out they 
went into the court of Rollo’s tower, and in 
the open air the shyness went off. Richard 
showed his own pony, and Alberic asked if he 
could leap into the saddle without putting his 
foot into the stirrup. No, Richard could not; 
indeed, even Osmond had never seen it done, 
for the feats of French chivalry had scarcely 
yet spread into Normandy. 

“Can you?” said Richard; “will you show 
us?” 

“I know I can with my own pony,” said 
Alberic, “for Bertrand will not let me mount 
in any other way; but I will try with yours, 
if you desire it, my Lord.” 

So the pony was led out. Alberic laid one 
hand on its mane, and vaulted on its back in 
a moment. Both Osmond and Richard broke 
out loudly into admiration. “Oh, this is noth¬ 
ing!” said Alberic. “Bertrand says it is noth¬ 
ing. Before he grew old and stiff he could 


62 THE LITTLE DUKE 

spring into the saddle in this manner fully 
armed. I ought to do this much better/ 5 
' Richard begged to be shown how to perform 
the exploit, and Alberic repeated it; then Rich¬ 
ard wanted to try, but the pony’s patience 
would not endure any longer, and Alberic said 
he had learnt on a block of wood, and prac¬ 
tised on the great wolf-hound. They wandered 
about a little longer in the court, and then 
climbed up the spiral stone stairs to the battle¬ 
ments at the top of the tower, where they looked 
at the house-tops of Rouen close beneath, and 
the river Seine, broadening and glittering on 
one side in its course to the sea, and on the 
other narrowing to a blue ribbon, winding 
through the green expanse of fertile Normandy. 
They threw the pebbles and bits of mortar down 
that they might hear them fall, and tried which 
could stand nearest to the edge of the battle¬ 
ment without being giddy. Richard was 
pleased to find that he could go the nearest, 
and began to tell some of Fru Astrida’s stories 
about the precipices of Norway, among which 


THE LITTLE DUKE 63 

when she was a young girl she used to climb 
about and tend the cattle in the long light sum¬ 
mer time. When the two boys came down 
again into the hall to dinner, they felt as if 
they had known each other all their lives. The 
dinner was laid out in full state, and Richard 
had, as before, to sit in the great throne-like 
chair with the old Count of Harcourt on one 
side, but, to his comfort, Fru Astrida was on 
the other. 

After the dinner, Alberic de Montemar rose 
to take his leave, as he was to ride halfway 
to his home that afternoon. Count Bernard, 
who all dinner time had been watching him 
intently from under his shaggy eye-brows, at 
this moment turned to Richard, whom he hardly 
ever addressed, and said to him, “Hark ye, my 
Lord, what should you say to have him yonder 
for a comrade ?” 

“To stay with me?” cried Richard, eagerly. 
“Oh, thanks, Sir Count; and may he stay?” 

“You are Lord here.” 

“Oh, Alberic!” cried Richard, jumping out 


64 THE LITTLE DUKE 

of his chair of state, and running up to him, 
“will you not stay with me. and be my brother 
and comrade ?” 

Alberic looked down hesitating. 

“Oh, say that you will! I will give you 
horses, and hawks, and hounds, and I will 
love you—almost as well as Osmond. Oh, 
stay with me, Alberic.” 

“I must obey you, my Lord,” said Alberic, 
“but-” 

“Come, young Frenchman, out with it,” said 
Bernard,—“no buts! Speak honestly, and at 
once, like a Norman, if you can.” 

This rough speech seemed to restore the little 
Baron’s self-possession, and he looked up bright 
and bold at the rugged face of the old Dane, 
while he said, “I had rather not stay here.” 

“Ha! not do service to your Lord?” 

“I would serve him with all my heart, but I 
do not want to stay here. I love the Castle of 
Montemar better, and my mother has no one 
but me.” 

“Brave and true, Sir Frenchman,” said the 



THE LITTLE DUKE 65 

old Count, laying his great hand on Alberic’s 
head, and looking better pleased than Richard 
thought his grim features could have appeared. 
Then turning to Bertrand, Alberic’s Seneschal, 
he said, “Bear the Count de Harcourt’s greet¬ 
ings to the noble Dame de Montemar, and say 
to her that her son is of a free bold spirit, and 
if she would have him bred up with my Lord 
Duke, as his comrade and brother in arms, he 
will find a ready welcome.” 

“So, Alberic, you will come back, perhaps?” 
said Richard. 

“That must be as my mother pleases,” an¬ 
swered Alberic bluntly, and with all due civili¬ 
ties he and his Seneschal departed. 

Four or five times a day did Richard ask 
Osmond and Fru Astrida if they thought Al¬ 
beric would return, and it was a great satis¬ 
faction to him to find that every one agreed 
that it would be very foolish in the Dame de 
Montemar to refuse so good an offer, only Fru 
Astrida could not quite believe she would part 
with her son. Still no Baron de Montemar 


66 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


arrived, and the little Duke was beginning to 
think less about his hopes, when one evening, 
as he was returning from a ride with Sir Eric 
and Osmond, he saw four horsemen coming to¬ 
wards them, and a little boy in front. 

“It is Alberic himself, I am sure of it!” he 
exclaimed, and so it proved; and while the 
Seneschal delivered his Lady’s message to Sir 
Eric, Richard rode up and greeted the welcome 
guest. 

“Oh, I am very glad your mother has sent 
you!” 

“She said she was not fit to bring up a young 
warrior of the marches,” said Alberic. 

“Were you very sorry to come?” 

“I dare say I shall not mind it soon; and 
Bertrand is to come and fetch me home to visit 
her every three months, if you will let me go, 
my Lord.” 

Richard was extremely delighted, and 
thought he could never do enough to make 
Rouen pleasant to Alberic, who after the first 
day or two cheered up, missed his mother less, 


THE LITTLE DUKE 67 

managed to talk something between French 
and Norman to Sir Eric and Fru Astrida, and 
became a very animated companion and friend. 
In one respect Alberic was a better playfellow 
for the Duke than Osmond de Centeville, for 
Osmond, playing as a grown-up man, not for 
his own amusement, but the child’s, had left all 
the advantages of the game to Richard, who 
was growing not a little inclined to domineer. 
This Alberic did not like, unless, as he said, 
“it was to be always Lord and vassal, and then 
he did not care for the game,” and he played 
with so little animation that Richard grew 
vexed. 

“I can’t help it,” said Alberic; “if you take 
all the best chances to yourself, ’tis no sport 
for me. I will do your bidding, as you are 
the Duke, but I cannot like it.” 

“Never mind my being Duke, but play as 
we used to do.” 

“Then let us play as I did with Bertrand’s 
sons at Montemar. I was their Baron, as you 
are my Duke, but my mother said there would 


68 THE LITTLE DUKE 

be no sport unless we forgot all that at 
play. 5 ’ 

“Then so we will. Come, begin again, Al- 
beric, and you shall have the first turn.” 

However, Alberic was quite as courteous and 
respectful to the Duke when they were not at 
play, as the difference of their rank required; 
indeed, he had learnt much more of grace and 
courtliness of demeanour from his mother, a 
Provengal lady, than was yet to be found 
among the Normans. The Chaplain of Monte- 
mar had begun to teach him to read and write, 
and he liked learning much better than Rich¬ 
ard, who would not have gone on with Father 
Lucas’s lessons at all, if Abbot Martin of 
Jumieges had not put him in mind that it had 
been his father’s especial desire. 

What Richard most disliked was, however, 
the being obliged to sit in council. The Count 
of Harcourt did in truth govern the dukedom, 
but nothing could be done without the Duke’s 
consent, and once a week at least, there was 
held in the great hall of Rollo’s tower, what was 


THE LITTLE DUKE 69 

called a Parlement , or “a talkation,” where 
Count Bernard, the Archbishop, the Baron de 
Centeville, the Abbot of Jumieges, and such 
other Bishops, Nobles, or Abbots, as might 
chance to be at Rouen, consulted on the affairs 
of Normandy; and there the little Duke always 
was forced to be present, sitting up in his 
chair of state, and hearing rather than listen¬ 
ing to, questions about the repairing and guard¬ 
ing of Castles, the asking of loans from the 
vassals, the appeals from the Barons of the 
Exchequer, who were then Nobles sent through 
the duchy to administer justice, and the dis¬ 
cussions about the proceedings of his neigh¬ 
bours, King Louis of France, Count Foulques 
of Anjou, and Count Herluin of Montreuil, 
and how far the friendship of Hugh of Paris, 
and Alan of Brittany might be trusted. 

Very tired of all this did Richard grow, 
especially when he found that the Normans had 
made up their minds not to attempt a war 
against the wicked Count of Flanders. He 
sighed most wearily, yawned again and again, 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


70 

and moved restlessly about in his chair; but 
whenever Count Bernard saw him doing so, he 
received so severe a look and sign that he grew 
perfectly to dread the eye of the fierce old 

v 

Dane. Bernard never spoke to him to praise 
him, or to enter into any of his pursuits; he 
only treated him with the grave distant respect 
due to him as a Prince, or else now and then 
spoke a few stern words to him of reproof for 
this restlessness, or for some other childish folly. 

Used as Richard was to be petted and made 
much of by the whole house of Centeville, he 
resented this considerably in secret, disliked and 
feared the old Count, and more than once told 
Alberic de Montemar, that as soon as he was 
fourteen, when he would be declared of age, he 
should send Count Bernard to take care of his 
own Castle of Harcourt, instead of letting him 
sit gloomy and grim in the Castle hall in the 
evening, spoiling all their sport. 

Winter had set in, and Osmond used daily 
to take the little Duke and Alberic to the near¬ 
est sheet of ice, for the Normans still prided 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


71 ; 

themselves on excelling in skating, though they 
had long since left the frost-bound streams and 
lakes of Norway. 

One day, as they were returning from the 
ice, they were surprised, even before they en¬ 
tered the Castle court, by hearing the trampling 
of horses’ feet, and a sound of voices. 

“What may this mean?” said Osmond. 
“There must surely be a great arrival of the 
vassals. The Duke of Brittany, perhaps.” 

“Oh,” said Richard, piteously, “we have had 
one council already this week. I hope another 
is not coming!” 

“It must import something extraordinary,” 
proceeded Osmond. “It is a mischance that 
the Count of Harcourt is not at Rouen just 
now.” 

Richard thought this no mischance at all, 
and just then, Alberic, who had run on a little 
before, came back exclaiming, “They are French. 
It is the Frank tongue, not the Norman, that 
they speak.” 

“So please you, my Lord,” said Osmond, 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


72 

stopping short, “we go not rashly into the midst 
of them. I would I knew what were best 
to do.” 

Osmond rubbed his forehead and stood con¬ 
sidering, while the two boys looked at him 
anxiously. In a few seconds, before he had 
come to any conclusion, there came forth from 
the gate a Norman Squire, accompanied by two 
strangers. 

“My Lord Duke,” said he to Richard, in 
French, “Sir Eric has sent me to bring you 
tidings that the King of France has arrived to 
receive your homage.” 

“The King!” exclaimed Osmond. 

“Ay!” proceeded the Norman, in his own 
tongue, “Louis himself, and with a train look¬ 
ing bent on mischief. I wish it may portend 
good to my Lord here. You see I am accom¬ 
panied. I believe from my heart that Louis 
meant to prevent you from receiving a warn¬ 
ing, and taking the boy out of his clutches.” 

“Ha! what?” said Richard, anxiously. 
“Why is the King come? What must I do?” 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


73 

“Go on now, since there is no help for it,” 
said Osmond. 

“Greet the king as becomes you, bend the 
knee, and pay him homage.” 

Richard repeated over to himself the form of 
homage that he might be perfect in it, and 
walked on into the court; Alberic, Osmond, and 
the rest falling back as he entered. The court 
was crowded with horses and men, and it was 
only by calling out loudly, “The Duke, the 
Duke,” that Osmond could get space enough 
made for them to pass. In a few moments 
Richard had mounted the steps and stood in the 
great hall. 

In the chair of state, at the upper end of the 
room, sat a small spare man, of about eight or 
nine-and-twenty, pale, and of a light com¬ 
plexion, with a rich dress of blue and gold. Sir 
Eric and several other persons stood respect¬ 
fully round him, and he was conversing with 
the Archbishop, who, as well as Sir Eric, cast 
several anxious glances at the little Duke as 
he advanced up the hall. He came up to the 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


74 

King, put his knee to the ground, and was just 

beginning, 4 ‘Louis, King of France, I-” 

when he found himself suddenly lifted from 
the ground in the King’s arms, and kissed on 
both cheeks. Then setting him on his knee, 
the King exclaimed, “And is this the son of 
my brave and noble friend, Duke William? 
Ah! I should have known it from his like¬ 
ness. Let me embrace you again, dear child, 
for your father’s sake.” 

Richard was rather overwhelmed, but he 
thought the King very kind, especially when 
Louis began to admire his height and free- 
spirited bearing, and to lament that his own 
sons, Lothaire and Carloman, were so much 
smaller and more backward. He caressed Rich¬ 
ard again and again, praised every word he 
said—Fru Astrida was nothing to him; and 
Richard began to say to himself how strange 
and unkind it was of Bernard de Harcourt to 
like to find fault with .him, when, on the con¬ 
trary, he deserved all this praise from the King 
himself. 



CHAPTER V 


Duke Richard of Normandy slept in the room 
which had been his father’s; Alberic de Monte- 
mar, as his page, slept at his feet, and Osmond 
de Centeville had a bed on the floor, across 
the door, where he lay with his sword close at 
hand, as his young Lord’s guard and protector. 

All had been asleep for some little time, 
when Osmond was startled by a slight move¬ 
ment of the door, which could not be pushed 
open without awakening him. In an instant he 
had grasped his sword, while he pressed his 
shoulder to the door to keep it close; but 
it was his father’s voice that answered him with 
a few whispered words in the Norse tongue, 
“It is I, open.” He made way instantly, and 
old Sir Eric entered, treading cautiously with 
bare feet, and sat down on the bed motioning 
him to do the same, so that they might be able 
to speak lower. “Right, Osmond,” he said. 

75 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


76 

“It is well to be on the alert, for peril enough 
is around him—The Frank means mischief! I 
know from a sure hand that Arnulf of Flanders 
was in council with him just before he came 
hither, with his false tongue, wiling and coaxing 
the poor child!” 

“Ungrateful traitor!” murmured Osmond. 
“Do you guess his purpose?” 

“Yes, surely, to carry the boy off with him, 
and so he trusts doubtless to cut off all the race 
of Rollo! I know his purpose is to bear off the 
Duke, as a ward of the Crown forsooth. Did 
you not hear him luring the child with his 
promises of friendship with the Princes? I 
could not understand all his French words, but 
I saw it plain enough.” 

“You will never allow it?” 

“If he does, it must be across our dead’bodies; 
but taken as we are by surprise, our resistance 
will little avail. The Castle is full of French, 
the hall and court swarm with them. Even if 
we could draw our Normans together, we should 
not be more than a dozen men, and what could 


I 


THE LITTLE DUKE 77 

we do but die? That we are ready for, if it 
may not be otherwise, rather than let our charge 
be thus borne off without a pledge for his safety, 
and without the knowledge of the states/ 5 

“The king could not have come at a worse 
time, 55 said Osmond. 

“No, just when Bernard the Dane is absent. 
If he only knew what has befallen, he could 
raise the country, and come to the rescue. 55 

“Could we not send some one to bear the 
tidings to-night? 55 

“I know not, 55 said Sir Eric, musingly. “The 
French have taken the keeping of the doors; 
indeed they are so thick through the Castle 
that I can hardly reach one of our men, nor 
could I spare one hand that may avail to guard 
the boy to-morrow. 55 

“Sir Eric 55 ; a bare little foot was heard on 
the floor, and Alberic de Montemar stood be¬ 
fore him. “I did not mean to listen, but I 
could not help hearing you. I cannot fight for 
the Duke yet, but I could carry a message. 55 

“How would that be? 55 said Osmond, eagerly. 


78 THE LITTLE DUKE 

“Once out of the Castle, and in Rouen, he 
could easily find means of sending to the 
Count. He might go either to the Convent of 
St. Ouen, or, which would be better, to the 
trusty armourer, Thibault, who would soon find 
man and horse to send after the Count.” 

“Ha! let me see,” said Sir Eric. “It might 
be. But how is he to get out?” 

“I know a way,” said Alberic. “I scrambled 
down that wide buttress by the east wall last 
week, when our ball was caught in a branch of 
the ivy, and the drawbridge is down.” 

“If Bernard knew, it would be off my mind, 
at least!” said Sir Eric. “Well, my young 
Frenchman, you may do good service.” 

“Osmond,” whispered Alberic, as he began 
hastily to dress himself, “only ask one thing 
of Sir Eric—never to call me young French¬ 
man again!” 

Sir Eric smiled, saying, “Prove yourself Nor¬ 
man, my boy.” 

“Then,” added Osmond, “if it were possible 
to get the Duke himself out of the castle to- 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


79 

morrow morning. If I could take him forth 
by the postern, and once bring him into the 
town, he would be safe. It would be only to 
raise the burghers, or else to take refuge in the 
Church of Our Lady till the Count came up, 
and then Louis would find his prey out of his 
hands when he awoke and sought him.” 

“That might be,” replied Sir Eric; “but I 
doubt your success. The French are too eager 
to hold him fast, to let him slip out of their 
hands. You will find every door guarded.” 

“Yes, but all the French have not seen the 
Duke, and the sight of a squire and a little 
page going forth, will scarcely excite their 
suspicion.” 

“Ay, if the Duke would bear himself like a 
little page; but that you need not hope for. 
Besides, he is so taken with this King’s flat¬ 
teries, that I doubt whether he would consent 
to leave him for the sake of Count Bernard. 
Poor child, he is like to be soon taught to know 
his true friends.” 

“I am ready,” said Alberic, coming forward. 


8o 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


The Baron de Centeville repeated his instruc¬ 
tions, and then undertook to guard the door, 
while his son saw Alberic set off on his ex¬ 
pedition. Osmond went with him softly down 
the stairs, then avoiding the hall, which was 
filled with French, they crept silently to a nar¬ 
row window, guarded by iron bars, placed at 
such short intervals apart that only so small 
and slim a form as Alberic’s could have 
squeezed out between them. The distance to 
the ground was not much more than twice his 
own height, and the wall was so covered with 
ivy, that it was not a very dangerous feat for 
an active boy, so that Alberic was soon safe 
on the ground, then looking up to wave his cap, 
he ran on along the side of the moat, and was 
soon lost to Osmond’s sight in the darkness. 

' Osmond returned to the Duke’s chamber, and 
relieved his father’s guard, while Richard slept 
soundly on, little guessing at the plots of his 
enemies, or at the schemes of his faithful sub¬ 
jects for his protection. 

Osmond thought this all the better, for he 


THE LITTLE DUKE 81 

had small trust in Richard’s patience and self- 
command, and thought there was much more 
chance of getting him unnoticed out of the 
Castle, if he did not know how much depended 
on it, and how dangerous his situation was. 

When Richard awoke, he was much surprised 
at missing Alberic, but Osmond said he was 
gone into the town to Thibault the armourer, 
and this was a message on which he was so 
likely to be employed that Richard’s suspicion 
was not excited. All the time he was dress¬ 
ing he talked about the King, and everything 
he meant to show him that day; then, when 
he was ready, the first thing was as usual to go 
to attend morning mass. 

“Not by that way, to-day, my Lord,” said 
Osmond, as Richard was about to enter the 
great hall. “It is crowded with the French who 
have been sleeping there all night; come to the 
postern.” 

Osmond turned, as he spoke, along the pas¬ 
sage, walking fast, and not sorry that Richard 
was lingering a little, as it was safer for him 


82 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


to be first. The postern was, as he expected, 
guarded by two tall steel-cased figures, who 
immediately held their lances across the door¬ 
way, “None passes without warrant. 55 

“You will surely let us of the Castle attend to 
our daily business, 55 said Osmond. “You will 
hardly break your fast this morning if you stop 
all communication with the town. 55 

“You must bring warrant, 55 repeated one of 
the men-at-arms. Osmond was beginning to say 
that he was the son of the Seneschal of the Cas¬ 
tle, when Richard came hastily up. “What? 
Do these men want to stop us? 55 he exclaimed 
in the imperious manner he had begun to take 
up since his accession. “Let us go on, sirs. 55 

The men-at-arms looked at each other, and 
guarded the door more closely. Osmond saw it 
was hopeless, and only wanted to draw his young 
charge back without being recognised, but Rich¬ 
ard exclaimed loudly, “What means this? 55 

“The King has given orders that none should 
pass without warrant, 55 was Osmond’s answer. 
“We must wait. 55 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


83 

“I will pass!” said Richard, impatient at op¬ 
position, to which he was little accustomed. 
“What mean you, Osmond? This is my Castle, 
and no one has a right to stop me. Do you hear, 
grooms? Let me go. I am the Duke!” 

The sentinels bowed, but all they said was, 
“Our orders are express.” 

“I tell you I am Duke of Normandy, and I 
will go where I please in my own city!” ex¬ 
claimed Richard, passionately pressing against 
the crossed staves of the weapons, to force his 
way between them, but he was caught and held 
fast in the powerful gauntlet of one of the men- 
at-arms. “Let me go, villain!” cried he, strug¬ 
gling with all his might. “Osmond, Osmond, 
help!” 

Even as he spoke Osmond had disengaged him 
from the grasp of the Frenchman, and putting 
his hand on his arm, said, “Nay, my Lord, it is 
not for you to strive with such as these.” 

“I will strive!” cried the boy. “I will not 
have my way barred in my own Castle. I will 
tell the King how these rogues of his use me. 


84 THE LITTLE DUKE 

I will have them in the dungeon. Sir Eric! 
Where is Sir Eric?” 

Away he rushed to the stairs, Osmond hurry¬ 
ing after him, lest he should throw himself into 
some fresh danger, or by his loud calls attract 
the French, who might then easily make him 
prisoner. However, on the very first step of the 
stairs stood Sir Eric, who was too anxious for 
the success of the attempt to escape, to be very 
far off. Richard, too angry to heed where he 
was going, dashed up against him without see¬ 
ing him, and as the old Baron took hold of him, 
began, “Sir Eric, Sir Eric, those French are vil¬ 
lains ! They will not let me pass—” 

“Hush, hush! my Lord,” said Sir Eric. “Si¬ 
lence! Come here.” 

However imperious with others, Richard from 
force of habit always obeyed Sir Eric, and now 
allowed himself to be dragged hastily and si¬ 
lently by him, Osmond following closely, up the 
stairs, up a second and a third winding flight, 
still narrower, and with broken steps, to a small 
round, thick-walled turret chamber, with an ex- 


THE LITTLE DUKE 85 

tremely small door, and loop-holes of windows 
high up in the tower. Here, to his great surprise, 
he found Dame Astrida, kneeling and telling her 
beads, two or three of her maidens, and about 
four of the Norman Squires and men-at-arms. 

“So you have failed, Osmond?” said the 
Baron. 

“But what is all this? How did Fru Astrida 
come up here? May I not go to the King and 
have those insolent Franks punished?” 

“Listen to me, Lord Richard,” said Sir Eric: 
“that smooth-spoken King whose words so 
charmed you last night is an ungrateful deceiver. 
The Franks have always hated and feared the 
Normans, and not being able to conquer us 
fairly, they now take to foul means. Louis came 
hither from Flanders, he has brought this great 
troop of French to surprise us, claim you as a 
ward of the crown, and carry you away with 
him to some prison of his own.” 

“You will not let me go?” said Richard. 

“Not while I live,” said Sir Eric. “Alberic 
is gone to warn the Count of Harcourt, to call 


86 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


the Normans together, and here we are ready to 
defend this chamber to our last breath, but we 
are few, the French are many, and succour may 
be far off.” 

“Then you meant to have taken me out of 
their reach this morning, Osmond?” 

“Yes, my Lord.” 

“And if I had not flown into a passion and 
told who I was, I might have been safe! O Sir 
Eric! Sir Eric! You will not let me be carried 
off to a French prison!” 

“Here, my child,” said Dame Astrida, holding 
out her arms, “Sir Eric will do all he can for you, 
but we are in God’s hands!” 

Richard came and leant against her. “I wish 
I had not been in a passion!” said he, sadly, after 
a silence; then looking at her in wonder—“But 
how came you up all this way?” 

“It is a long way for my old limbs,” said Fru 
Astrida, smiling, “but my son helped me, and he 
deems it the only safe place in the Castle.” 

“The safest,” said Sir Eric, “and that is not 
saying much for it.” 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


87 

“Hark!” said Osmond, “what a tramping the 
Franks are making. They are beginning to won¬ 
der where the Duke is.” 

“To the stairs, Osmond,” said Sir Eric. “On 
that narrow step one man may keep them at bay 
a long time. You can speak their jargon too, 
and hold parley with them.” 

“Perhaps they will think I am gone,” whis¬ 
pered Richard, “if they cannot find me, and go 
away.” 

Osmond and two of the Normans were, as he 
spoke, taking their stand on the narrow spiral 
stair, where there was just room for one man on 
the step. Osmond was the lowest, the other two 
above him, and it would have been very hard 
for an enemy to force his way past them. 

Osmond could plainly hear the sounds of the 
steps and voices of the French as they consulted 
together, and sought for the Duke. A man at 
length was heard clanking up these very stairs, 
till winding round, he suddenly found himself 
close upon young de Centeville. 


88 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


“Ha! Norman!” he cried, starting back in 
amazement, “what are you doing here?” 

“My duty,” answered Osmond, shortly. “I 
am here to guard this stair”; and his drawn 
sword expressed the same intention. 

The Frenchman drew back, and presently a 
whispering below was heard, and soon after a 
voice came up the stairs, saying, “Norman— 
good Norman—” 

“What would you say?” replied Osmond, and 
the head of another Frank appeared. “What 
means all this, my friend?” was the address. 
“Our King comes as a guest to you, and you re¬ 
ceived him last evening as loyal vassals. 
Wherefore have you now drawn out of the way, 
and striven to bear off your young Duke into 
secret places? Truly it looks not well that you 
should thus strive to keep him apart, and there¬ 
fore the King requires to see him instantly.” 

“Sir Frenchman,” replied Osmond, “your 
King claims the Duke as his ward. How that 
may be my father knows not, but as he was com¬ 
mitted to his charge by the states of Normandy, 


THE LITTLE DUKE 89 

he holds himself bound to keep him in his own 
hands until further orders from them.” 

“That means, insolent Norman, that you in¬ 
tend to shut the boy up and keep him in your 
own rebel hands. You had best yield—it will 
be the better for you and for him. The child is 
the King’s ward, and he shall not be left to be 
nurtured in rebellion by northern pirates.” 

At this moment a cry from without arose, so 
loud as almost to drown the voices of the speak¬ 
ers on the turret stair, a cry welcome to the 
ears of Osmond, repeated by a multitude of 
voices, “Haro! Haro! Our little Duke!” 

It was well known as a Norman shout. So 
just and so ready to redress all grievances had 
the old Duke Rollo been, that his very name was 
an appeal against injustice, and whenever wrong 
was done, the Norman outcry against the injury 
was always, “Ha Rollo!” or as it had become 
shortened, “Haro.” And now Osmond knew 
that those, whose affection had been won by the 
uprightness of Rollo, were gathering to protect 
his helpless grandchild. 


90 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


The cry was likewise heard by the little garri¬ 
son in the turret chamber, bringing hope and joy. 
Richard thought himself already rescued, and 
springing from Fru Astrida, danced about in ec¬ 
stasy, only longing to see the faithful Normans, 
whose voices he heard ringing out again and 
again, in calls for their little Duke, and outcries 
against the Franks. The windows were, how¬ 
ever, so high, that nothing could be seen from 
them but the sky; and, like Richard, the old 
Baron de Centeville was almost beside himself 
with anxiety to know what force was gathered 
together, and what measures were being taken. 
He opened the door, called to his son, and asked 
if he could tell what was passing, but Osmond 
knew as little—he could see nothing but the 
black, cobwebbed, dusty steps winding above 
his head, while the clamours outside, waxing 
fiercer and louder, drowned all the sounds which 
might otherwise have come up to him from the 
French within the Castle. At last, however, 
Osmond called out to his father, in Norse, 
‘There is a Frank Baron come to entreat, and 



“The cry was heard by the little garrison in the Turret Chamber, 

bringing hope and joy.” 



















































































































THE LITTLE DUKE 


9i 

this time very humbly, that the Duke may come 
to the King / 7 

“Tell him,” replied Sir Eric, “that save with 
consent of the council of Normandy, the child 
leaves not my hands . 77 

“He says , 77 called back Osmond, after a mo¬ 
ment, “that you shall guard him yourself, with 
as many as you choose to bring with you. He 
declares on the faith of a free Baron, that the 
King has no thought of ill—he wants to show 
him to the Rouennais without, who are calling 
for him, and threaten to tear down the tower 
rather than not see their little Duke. Shall I 
bid him send a hostage 4 ? 77 

“Answer him , 77 returned the Baron, “that the 
Duke leaves not this chamber unless a pledge 
is put into our hands for his safety. There was 
an oily-tongued Count, who sat next the King at 
supper—let him come hither, and then perchance 
I may trust the Duke among them . 77 

Osmond gave the desired reply, which was 
carried to the King. Meantime the uproar out¬ 
side grew louder than ever, and there were new 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


92 

sounds, a horn was winded, and there was a 
shout of “Dieu aide!” the Norman war-cry, 
joined with “Notre Dame de Harcourt!” 

“There, there!” cried Sir Eric, with a long 
breath, as if relieved of half his anxieties, “the 
.boy has sped well. Bernard is here at last! 
Now his head and hand are there, I doubt no 
longer.” 

“Here comes the Count,” said Osmond, open¬ 
ing the door, and admitting a stout, burly man, 
who seemed sorely out of breath with the ascent 
of the steep, broken stair, and very little pleased 
to find himself in such a situation. The Baron 
de Centeville augured well from the speed with 
which he had been sent, thinking it proved great 
perplexity and distress on the part of Louis. 
Without waiting to hear his hostage speak, he 
pointed to a chest on which he had been sitting, 
and bade two of his men-at-arms stand on each 
side of the Count, saying at the same time to 
Fru Astrida, “Now, mother, if aught of evil be¬ 
falls the child, you know your part. Come, Lord 
Richard.” 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


93 

Richard moved forward. Sir Eric held his 
hand. Osmond kept close behind him, and with 
as many of the men-at-arms as could be spared 
from guarding Fru Astrida and her hostage, he 
descended the stairs, not by any means sorry to 
go, for he was weary of being besieged in that 
turret chamber, whence he could see nothing, and 
with those friendly cries in his ears, he could not 
be afraid. 

He was conducted to the large council-room 
which was above the hall. There, the King was 
walking up and down anxiously, looking paler 
than his wont, and no wonder, for the uproar 
sounded tremendous there—and now and then 
a stone dashed against the sides of the deep 
window. 

Nearly at the same moment as Richard en¬ 
tered by one door, Count Bernard de Harcourt 
came in from the other, and there was a slight 
lull in the tumult. 

“What means this, my Lords?” exclaimed the 
King. “Here am I come in all good-will, in 
memory of my warm friendship with Duke Wil- 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


94 

liam, to take on me the care of his orphan, and 
hold council with you for avenging his death, 
and is this the greeting you afford me? You 
steal away the child, and stir up the rascaille 
of Rouen against me. Is this the reception for 
your King?” 

“Sir King,” replied Bernard, “what your in¬ 
tentions may be, I know not. All I do know is, 
that the burghers of Rouen are fiercely incensed 
against you—so much so, that they were almost 
ready to tear me to pieces for being absent at 
this juncture. They say that you are keeping 
the child prisoner in his own Castle and that they 
will have him restored if they tear it down to 
the foundations.” 

“You are a true man, a loyal man—you un¬ 
derstand my good intentions,” said Louis, trem¬ 
bling, for the Normans were extremely dreaded. 
“You would not bring the shame of rebellion on 
your town and people. Advise me—I will do 
just as you counsel me—how shall I appease 
them?” 

“Take the child, lead him to the window, 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


95 

swear that you mean him no evil, that you will 
not take him from us / 5 said Bernard. “Swear 
it on the faith of a King . 55 

“As a King—as a Christian, it is true ! 55 said 
Louis. “Here, my boy! Wherefore shrink from 
me? What have I done, that you should fear 
me? You have been listening to evil tales of 
me, my child. Come hither . 55 

At a sign from the Count de Harcourt, Sir Eric 
led Richard forward, and put his hand into the 
King’s. Louis took him to the window, lifted 
him upon the sill, and stood there with his arm 
round him, upon which the shout, “Long live 
Richard, our little Duke ! 55 arose again. Mean¬ 
time, the two Centevilles looked in wonder at 
the old Harcourt, who shook his head and mut¬ 
tered in his own tongue, “I will do all I may, 
but our force is small, and the King has the best 
of it. We must not yet bring a war on our¬ 
selves . 55 

“Hark, he’s going to speak ! 55 said Osmond. 

“Fair Sirs!—excellent burgesses ! 55 began the 
King, as the cries lulled a little . 11 “I rejoice to 


96 THE LITTLE DUKE 

see the love ye bear to our young Prince! I 
would all my subjects were equally loyal! But 
wherefore dread me, as if I were come to injure 
him? I, who came but to take counsel how to 
avenge the death of his father, who brought me 
back from England when I was a friendless ex¬ 
ile. Know ye not how deep is the debt of grati¬ 
tude I owe to Duke William? He it was who 
made me King—it was he who gained me the 
love of the King of Germany; he stood godfather 
for my son—to him I owe all my wealth and 
state, and all my care is to render guerdon for 
it to his child, since, alas! I may not to himself. 
Duke William rests in his bloody grave! It is 
for me to call his murderers to account, and to 
cherish his son, even as mine own!” 

So saying, Louis tenderly embraced the little 
boy, and the Rouennais below broke out into 
another cry, in which “Long live King Louis,” 
was joined with “Long live Richard!” 

“You will not let the child go?” said Eric, 
meanwhile, to Harcourt. 

“Not without provision for his safety, but we 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


97 

are not fit for war as yet, and to let him go is 
the only means of warding it off.” 

Eric groaned and shook his head; but the 
Count de Harcourt’s judgment was of such 
weight with him, that he never dreamt of dis¬ 
puting it. 

“Bring me here,” said the King, “all that you 
deem most holy, and you shall see me pledge 
myself to be your Duke’s most faithful friend.” 

There was some delay, during which the Nor¬ 
man Nobles had time for further counsel to¬ 
gether, and Richard looked wistfully at them, 
wondering what was to happen to him, and wish¬ 
ing he could venture to ask for Alberic. 

Several of the Clergy of the Cathedral pres¬ 
ently appeared in procession, bringing with 
them the book of the Gospels on which Richard 
had taken his installation oath, with others of 
the sacred treasures of the Church, preserved in 
gold cases. The Priests were followed by a few 
of the Norman Knights and Nobles, some of the 
burgesses of Rouen, and, to Richard’s great joy, 
by Alberic de Montemar himself. The two boys 


98 THE LITTLE DUKE 

stood looking eagerly at each other, while prepa¬ 
ration was made for the ceremony of the King’s 
oath. 

The stone table in the middle of the room was 
cleared, and arranged so as in some degree to re¬ 
semble the Altar in the Cathedral; then the 
Count de Harcourt, standing before it, and hold¬ 
ing the King’s hand, demanded of him whether 
he would undertake to be the friend, protector, 
and good Lord of Richard, Duke of Normandy, 
guarding him from all his enemies, and ever 
seeking his welfare. Louis, with his hand on the 
Gospels, “swore that so he would.” 

“Amen!” returned Bernard the Dane, sol¬ 
emnly, “and as thou keepest that oath to the 
fatherless child, so may the Lord do unto thine 
house!” 

Then followed the ceremony, which had been 
interrupted the night before, of the homage and 
oath of allegiance which Richard owed to the 
King, and, on the other hand, the King’s formal 
reception of him as a vassal, holding, under him, 
the two dukedoms of Normandy and Brittany. 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


99 

“And,” said the King, raising him in his arms 
and kissing him, “no dearer vassal do I hold in 
all my realm than this fair child, son of my mur¬ 
dered friend and benefactor—precious to me as 
my own children, as soon my Queen and I hope 
to testify.” 

Richard did not much like all this embracing; 
but he was sure the King really meant him no 
ill, and he wondered at all the distrust the Cente- 
villes had shown. 

“Now, brave Normans,” said the King, “be ye 
ready speedily, for an onset on the traitor Flem¬ 
ing. The cause of my ward is my own cause. 
Soon shall the trumpet be sounded, the ban and 
arriere ban of the realm be called forth, and 
Arnulf, in the flames of his cities, and the blood 
of his vassals, shall learn to rue the day when 
his foot trod the Isle of Pecquigny! How many 
Normans can you bring to the muster, Sir 
Count?” 

“I cannot say, within a few hundreds of 
lances, replied the old Dane, cautiously; “it 
depends on the numbers that may be engaged 



100 THE LITTLE DUKE 

in the Italian war with the Saracens, but of this 
be sure, Sir King, that every man in Normandy 
and Brittany who can draw a sword or bend a 
bow, will stand forth in the cause of our little 
Duke; ay, and that his blessed father’s memory 
is held so dear in our northern home, that it needs 
but a message to King Harold Blue-tooth to 
bring a fleet of long keels into the Seine, with 
stout Danes enough to carry fire and sword, not 
merely through Flanders, but through all 
France. We of the North are not apt to forget 
old friendships and favours, Sir King.” 

“Yes, yes, I know the Norman faith of old,” 
returned Louis, uneasily, “but we should 
scarcely need such wild allies as you propose; 
the Count of Paris, and Hubert of Senlis may 
be reckoned on, I suppose.” 

“No truer friend to Normandy than gallant 
and wise old Hugh the White!” said Bernard, 
“and as to Senlis, he is uncle to the boy, and 
doubly bound to us.” 

“I rejoice to see your confidence,” said Louis. 
“You shall soon hear from me. In the mean- 




THE LITTLE DUKE 


101 


time I must return to gather my force together, 
and summon my great vassals, and I will, with 
your leave, brave Normans, take with me my 
dear young ward. His presence will plead bet¬ 
ter in his cause than the finest words; moreover, 
he will grow up in love and friendship with my 
two boys, and shall be nurtured with them in all 
good learning and chivalry, nor shall he ever be 
reminded that he is an orphan while under the 
care of Queen Gerberge and myself.” 

“Let the child come to me, so please you, my 
Lord the King,” answered Harcourt, bluntly. 
“I must hold some converse with him, ere I can 
reply.” 

“Go then, Richard,” said Louis, “go to your 
trusty vassal—happy are you in possessing such 
a friend; I hope you know his value.” 

“Here then, young Sir,” said the Count, in his 
native tongue, when Richard had crossed from 
the King’s side, and stood beside him, “what say 
you to this proposal?” 

“The King is very kind/ 5 said Richard. “I 


102 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


am sure he is kind; but I do not like to go from 
Rouen, or from Dame Astrida.” 

“Listen, my Lord,” said the Dane, stooping 
down and speaking low. “The King is resolved 
to have you away; he has with him the best of 
his Franks, and has so taken us at unawares, that 
though I might yet rescue you from his hands, 
it would not be without a fierce struggle, wherein 
you might be harmed, and this castle and town 
certainly burnt, and wrested from us. A few 
weeks or months, and we shall have time to draw 
our force together, so that Normandy need fear 
no man, and for that time you must tarry with 
him.” 

“Must I—and all alone?” 

“No, not alone, not without the most trusty 
guardian that can be found for you. Friend 
Eric, what say you?” and he laid his hand on 
the old Baron’s shoulder. “Yet, I know not; 
true thou art, as a Norwegian mountain, but I 
doubt me if thy brains are not too dull to see 
through the French wiles and disguises, sharp 
as thou didst show thyself last night.” 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


103 

“That was Osmond, not I,” said Sir Eric. 
“He knows their mincing tongue better than I. 
He were the best to go with the poor child, if 
go he must.” 

“Bethink you, Eric,” said the Count, in an 
undertone, “Osmond is the only hope of your 
good old house—if there is foul play, the guard¬ 
ian will be the first to suffer.” 

“Since you think fit to peril the only hope of 
all Normandy, I am not the man to hold back my 
son where he may aid him,” said old Eric, sadly. 
“The poor child will be lonely and uncared-for 
there, and it were hard he should not have one 
faithful comrade and friend with him.” 

“It is well,” said Bernard: “young as he is, I 
had rather trust Osmond with the child than any 
one else, for he is ready of counsel, and quick 
of hand.” 

“Ay, and a pretty pass it is come to,” muttered 
old Centeville, “that we, whose business it is to 
guard the boy, should send him where you 
scarcely like to trust my son.” 

Bernard paid no further attention to him, but, 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


104 

coming forward, required another oath from the 
King, that Richard should be as safe and free 
at his court as at Rouen, and that on no pretence 
whatsoever should he be taken from under the 
immediate care of his Esquire, Osmond Fitz 
Eric, heir of Centeville. 

After this, the King was impatient to depart, 
and all was preparation. Bernard called Os¬ 
mond aside to give full instructions on his con¬ 
duct, and the means of communicating with 
Normandy, and Richard was taking leave of Fru 
Astrida, who had now descended from her turret, 
bringing her hostage with her. She wept much 
over her little Duke, praying that he might 
safely be restored to Normandy, even though she 
might not live to see it; she exhorted him not to 
forget the good and holy learning in which he 
had been brought up, to rule his temper, and, 
above all, to say his prayers constantly, never 
leaving out one, as the beads of his rosary re¬ 
minded him of their order. As to her own grand¬ 
son, anxiety for him seemed almost lost in her 
fears for Richard, and the chief things she said 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


105 

to him, when he came to take leave of her, were 
directions as to the care he was to take of the 
child, telling him the honour he now received 
was one which would make his name for ever 
esteemed if he did but fulfil his trust, the most 
precious that Norman had ever yet received. 

“I will, grandmother, to the very best of my 
power/' said Osmond; “I may die in his cause, 
but never will I be faithless!” 

“Alberic!” said Richard, “are you glad to be 
going back to Montemar?” 

“Yes, my Lord,” answered Alberic, sturdily, 
“as glad as you will be to come back to R.ouen.” 

“Then I shall send for you directly, Alberic, 
for I shall never love the Princes Carloman and 
Lothaire half as well as you!” 

“My Lord the King is waiting for the Duke,” 
said a Frenchman, coming forward. 

“Farewell then, Fru Astrida. Do not weep. 
I shall soon come back. Farewell, Alberic. 
Take the bar-tailed falcon back to Montemar, 
and keep him for my sake. Farewell, Sir Eric— 
Farewell, Count Bernard. When the Normans 


io6 THE LITTLE DUKE 

come to conquer Arnulf you will lead them. O 
dear, dear Fru Astrida, farewell again.” 

“Farewell, my own darling. The blessing of 
Heaven go with you, and bring you safe home! 
Farewell, Osmond. Heaven guard you and 
strengthen you to be his shield and his defence!” 


CHAPTER VI 


Away from the tall narrow gateway of Rollo’s 
Tower, with the cluster of friendly, sorrowful 
faces looking forth from it, away from the booth¬ 
like shops of Rouen, and the stout burghers 
shouting with all the power of their lungs, 
“Long live Duke Richard! Long live King 
Louis! Death to the Fleming!”—away from 
the broad Seine—away from home and friends, 
rode the young Duke of Normandy, by the side 
of the palfrey of the King of France. 

The King took much notice of him, kept him 
by his side, talked to him, admired the beautiful 
cattle grazing in security in the green pastures, 
and, as he looked at the rich dark brown earth 
of the fields, the Castles towering above the 
woods, the Convents looking like great farms, 
the many villages round the rude Churches, and 
the numerous population who came out to gaze 
at the party, and repeat the cry of “Long live the 

107 


io8 THE LITTLE DUKE 

King! Blessings on the little Duke!” he told 
Richard, again and again, that his was the most 
goodly duchy in France and Germany to boot. 

When they crossed the Epte, the King would 

have Richard in the same boat with him, and 

sitting close to Louis, and talking eagerly about 

falcons and hounds, the little Duke passed the 

boundary of his own dukedom. 

* 

The country beyond was not like Normandy. 
First they came to a great forest, which seemed 
to have no path through it. The King ordered 
that one of the men, who had rowed them across, 
should be made to serve as guide, and two of 
the men-at-arms took him between them, and 
forced him to lead the way, while others, with 
their swords and battle-axes, cut down and 
cleared away the tangled branches and briars 
that nearly choked the path. All the time, every 
one was sharply on the look-out for robbers, and 
the weapons were all held ready for use at a mo¬ 
ment’s notice. On getting beyond the forest a 
Castle rose before them, and, though it was not 
yet late in the day, they resolved to rest there, 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


109 

as a marsh lay not far before them, which it 
would not have been safe to traverse in the 
evening twilight. 

The Baron of the Castle received them with 
great respect to the King, but without paying 
much attention to the Duke of Normandy, and 
Richard did not find the second place left for 
him at the board. He coloured violently, and 
looked first at the King, and then at Osmond, 
but Osmond held up his finger in warning; he 
remembered how he had lost his temper before, 
and what had come of it, and resolved to try to 
bear it better; and just then the Baron’s daugh¬ 
ter, a gentle looking maiden of fifteen or sixteen, 
came and spoke to him, and entertained him so 
well, that he did not think much more of his 
offended dignity. When they set off on their 
journey again, the Baron and several of his fol¬ 
lowers came with them to show the only safe 
way across the morass, and a very slippery, 
treacherous, quaking road it was, where the 
horses’ feet left pools of water wherever they 
trod. The King and the Baron rode together. 


no THE LITTLE DUKE 

and the other French Nobles closed round them; 
Richard was left quite in the background, and 
though the French men-at-arms took care not to 
lose sight of him, no one offered him any assist¬ 
ance, excepting Osmond, who, giving his own 
horse to Sybald, one of the two Norman grooms 
who accompanied him, led Richard’s horse by the 
bridle along the whole distance of the marshy 
path, a business that could scarcely have been 
pleasant, as Osmond wore his heavy hauberk, 
and his pointed, iron-guarded boots sunk deep 
at every step into the bog. He spoke little, but 
seemed to be taking good heed of every stump 
of willow or stepping-stone that might serve as 
a note of remembrance of the path. 

At the other end of the morass began a long 
tract of dreary-looking, heathy waste, without a 
sign of life. The Baron took leave of the King, 
only sending three men-at-arms, to show him the 
way to a monastery, which was to be the next 
halting-place. He sent three, because it was not 
safe for one, even fully armed, to ride alone, for 
fear of the attacks of the followers of a certain 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


in 


marauding Baron, who was at deadly feud with 
him, and made all that border a most perilous 
region. Richard might well observe that he did 
not like the Vexin half as well as Normandy, 
and that the people ought to learn Fru Astrida’s 
story of the golden bracelets, which, in his grand¬ 
father’s time, had hung untouched for a year, in 
a tree in a forest. 

It was pretty much the same through the whole 
journey, waste lands, marshes, and forests alter¬ 
nated. The Castles stood on high mounds 
frowning on the country round, and villages 
were clustered round them, where the people 
either fled away, driving off their cattle with 
them at the first sight of an armed band, or else, 
if they remained, proved to be thin, wretched- 
looking creatures, with wasted limbs, aguish 
faces, and often iron collars round their necks. 
Wherever there was anything of more prosper¬ 
ous appearance, such as a few cornfields, vine¬ 
yards on the slopes of the hills, fat cattle, and 
peasantry looking healthy and secure, there was 
sure to be seen a range of long low stone build- 


112 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


ings, surmounted with crosses, with a short 
square Church tower rising in the midst, and in¬ 
terspersed with gnarled hoary old apple-trees, or 
with gardens of pot-herbs spreading before them 
to the meadows. If, instead of two or three men- 
at-arms from a Castle, or of some trembling serf 
pressed into the service, and beaten, threatened, 
and watched to prevent treachery, the King 
asked for a guide at a Convent, some lay brother 
would take his staff, or else mount an ass, and 
proceed in perfect confidence and security as to 
his return homewards, sure that his poverty and 
his sacred character would alike protect him from 
any outrage from the most lawless marauder of 
the neighbourhood. 

Thus they travelled until they reached the 
royal Castle of Laon, where the Fleur-de-Lys 
standard on the battlements announced the pres¬ 
ence of Gerberge, Queen of France, and her two 
sons. The King rode first into the court with 
his Nobles, and before Richard could follow him 
through the narrow arched gateway, he had dis¬ 
mounted, entered the Castle, and was out of 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


113 

sight. Osmond held the Duke’s stirrup, and fol¬ 
lowed him up the steps which led to the Castle 
Hall. It was full of people, but no one made 
way, and Richard, holding his Squire’s hand, 
looked up in his face, inquiring and bewildered. 

“Sir Seneschal,” said Osmond, seeing a broad 
portly old man, with grey hair and a golden 
chain, “this is the Duke of Normandy—I pray 
you conduct him to the King’s presence.” 

Richard had no longer any cause to complain 
of neglect, for the Seneschal instantly made him 
a very low bow, and calling “Place—place for 
the high and mighty Prince, my Lord Duke of 
Normandy!” ushered him up to the dais or raised 
part of the floor, where the King and Queen 
stood together talking. The Queen looked 
round, as Richard was announced, and he saw 
her face, which was sallow, and with a sharp sour 
expression that did not please him, and he 
backed and looked reluctant, while Osmond, 
with a warning hand pressed on his shoulder, 
was trying to remind him that he ought to go 
forward, kneel on one knee, and kiss her hand. 


114 THE LITTLE DUKE 

“There he is,” said the King. 

“One thing secure!” said the Queen; “but 
what makes that northern giant keep close to 
his heels?” 

Louis answered something in a low voice, and, 
in the meantime, Osmond tried in a whisper to 
induce his young Lord to go forward and per¬ 
form his obeisance. 

“I tell you I will not,” said Richard. “She 
looks cross, and I do not like her.” 

Luckily he spoke his own language; but his 
look and air expressed a good deal of what he 
said, and Gerberge looked all the more un¬ 
attractive. 

“A thorough little Norwegian bear,” said the 
King; “fierce and unruly as the rest. Come, and 
perform your courtesy—do you forget where you 
are?” he added, sternly. 

Richard bowed, partly because Osmond 
forced down his shoulder; but he thought of old 
Rollo and Charles the Simple, and his proud 
heart resolved that he would never kiss the hand 
of that sour-looking Queen. It was a determina- 


i 


THE LITTLE DUKE 115 

tion made in pride and defiance, and he suffered 
for it afterwards; but no more passed now, for 
the Queen only saw in his behaviour that of an 
unmannerly young Northman: and though she 
disliked and despised him, she did not care 
enough about his courtesy to insist on its being 
paid. She sat down, and so did the King, and 
they went on talking; the King probably telling 
her his adventures at Rouen, while Richard 
stood on the step of the dais, swelling with sul¬ 
len pride. 

Nearly a quarter of an hour had passed in this 
manner when the servants came to set the table 
for supper, and Richard, in spite of his indignant 
looks, was forced to stand aside. He wondered 
that all this time he had not seen the two Princes, 
thinking how strange he should have thought it, 
to let his own dear father be in the house so long 
without coming to welcome him. At last, just as 
the supper had been served up, a side door 
opened, and the Seneschal called, “Place for the 
high and mighty Princes, my Lord Lothaire and 
my Lord Carloman!” and in walked two boys, 


n6 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


one about the same age as Richard, the other 
rather less than a year younger. They were both 
thin, pale, sharp-featured children, and Richard 
drew himself up to his full height, with great 
satisfaction at being so much taller than 
Lothaire. 

They came up ceremoniously to their father 
and kissed his hand, while he kissed their fore¬ 
heads, and then said to them, “There is a new 
play-fellow for you.” 

“Is that the little Northman?” said Carloman, 
turning to stare at Richard with a look of curi¬ 
osity, while Richard in his turn felt considerably 
affronted that a boy so much less than himself 
should call him little. 

“Yes,” said the Queen; “your father has 
brought him home with him.” 

Carloman stepped forward, shyly holding out 
his hand to the stranger, but his brother pushed 
him rudely aside. “I am the eldest; it is my busi¬ 
ness to be first. So, young Northman, you are 
come here for us to play with.” 

Richard was too much amazed at being spoken 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


117 

to in this imperious way to make any answer. 
He was completely taken by surprise, and only 
opened his great blue eyes to their utmost extent. 

“Ha! why don’t you answer? Don’t you 
hear? Can you speak only your own heathen 
tongue?” continued Lothaire. 

“The Norman is no heathen tongue!” said 
Richard, at once breaking silence in a loud voice. 
“We are as good Christians as you are—ay, and 
better too.” 

“Hush! hush! my Lord!” said Osmond. 

“What now, Sir Duke,” again interfered the 
King, in an angry tone, “are you brawling al¬ 
ready? Time, indeed, I should take you from 
your own savage court. Sir Squire, look to it 
that you keep your charge in better rule, or I 
shall send him instantly to bed, supperless.” 

“My Lord, my Lord,” whispered Osmond, 
“see you not that you are bringing discredit on 
all of us?” 

“I would be courteous enough, if they would 
be courteous to me,” returned Richard, gazing 
with eyes full of defiance at Lothaire, who, re- 


n8 THE LITTLE DUKE 

turning an angry look, had nevertheless shrunk 
back to his mother. She meanwhile was saying, 
“So strong, so rough, the young savage is, he 
will surely harm our poor boys!” 

“Never fear,” said Louis; “he shall be 
watched. And,” he added in a lower tone, “for 
the present, at least, we must keep up appear¬ 
ances. Hubert of Senlis, and Hugh of Paris, 
have their eyes on us, and were the boy to be 
missed, the grim old Harcourt would have all 
the pirates of his land on us in the twinkling of 
an eye. We have him, and there we must rest 
content for the present. Now to supper.” 

At supper, Richard sat next little Carloman, 
who peeped at him every now and then from 
under his eyelashes, as if he was afraid of him; 
and presently, when there was a good deal of 
talking going on, so that his voice could not be 
heard, half whispered, in a very grave tone, “Do 
you like salt beef or fresh*?” 

“I like fresh,” answered Richard, with equal 
gravity, “only we eat salt all the winter.” 

There was another silence, and then Carlo- 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


119 

man, with the same solemnity, asked, “How old 
are you?” 

“I shall be nine on the eve of St. Boniface. 
How old are you?” 

“Eight. I was eight at Martinmas, and Lo- 
thaire was nine three days since.” 

Another silence; then, as Osmond waited on 
Richard, Carloman returned to the charge, “Is 
that your Squire?” 

“Yes, that is Osmond de Centeville.” 

“How tall he is!” 

“We Normans are taller than you French.” 

“Don’t say so to Lothaire, or you will make 
him angry.” 

“Why? It is true.” 

“Yes; but—” and Carloman sunk his voice— 
“there are some things which Lothaire will not 
hear said. Do not make him cross, or he will 
make my mother displeased with you. She 
caused Thierry de Lincourt to be scourged, be¬ 
cause his ball hit Lothaire’s face.” 

“She cannot scourge me—I am a free Duke,” 


120 THE LITTLE DUKE 

said Richard. “But why? Did he do it on 
purpose?” 

“Oh, no!” 

“And was Lothaire hurt?” 

“Hush! you must say Prince Lothaire. No; 
it was quite a soft ball.” 

“Why?” again asked Richard—“why was he 
scourged?” 

“I told you, because he hit Lothaire.” 

“Well, but did he not laugh, and say it was 
nothing? Alberic quite knocked me down with 
a great snowball the other day, and Sir Eric 
laughed, and said I must stand firmer.” 

“Do you make snowballs?” 

“To be sure I do! Do not you?” 

“Oh, no, the snow is so cold!” 

“Ah! you are but a little boy,” said Richard, 
in a superior manner. Carloman asked how it 
was done; and Richard gave an animated de¬ 
scription of the snowballing, a fortnight ago, at 
Rouen, when Osmond and some of the other 
young men built a snow fortress, and defended 
it against Richard, Alberic, and the other 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


121 


Squires. Carloman listened with delight, and 
declared that next time it snowed, they would 
have a snow castle; and thus, by the time sup¬ 
per was over, the two little boys were very good 
friends. 

Bedtime came not long after supper. Rich¬ 
ard’s was a smaller room than he had been used 
to at Rouen; but it amazed him exceedingly 
when he first went into it: he stood gazing in 
wonder, because, as he said, “It was as if he had 
been in a church.” 

“Yes, truly!” said Osmond. “No wonder 
these poor creatures of French cannot stand be¬ 
fore a Norman lance, if they cannot sleep with¬ 
out glass to their windows. Well! what would 
my father say to this 4 ?” 

“And see, see, Osmond! They have put hang¬ 
ings up all around the walls, just like our Lady’s 
church on a great feast-day. They treat us just 
as if we were the holy saints; and here are fresh 
rushes strewn about the floor, too. This must be 
a mistake—it must be an oratory, instead of my 
chamber.” 


122 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


“No, no, my Lord; here is our gear, which I 
bade Sybald and Henry see bestowed in our 
chamber. Well, these Franks are come to a pass, 
indeed! My grandmother will never believe 
what we shall have to tell her. Glass windows 
and hangings to sleeping chambers! I do not 
like it; I am sure we shall never be able to sleep, 
closed up from the free air of heaven in this 
way: I shall be always waking, and fancying I 
am in the chapel at home, hearing Father Lucas 
chanting his matins. Besides, my father would 
blame me for letting you be made as tender as a 
Frank. I’ll have out this precious window, if 
can. 

Luxurious as the young Norman thought the 
King, the glazing of Laon was not permanent. 
It consisted of casements, which could be put up 
or removed at pleasure; for, as the court pos¬ 
sessed only one set of glass windows, they were 
taken down, and carried from place to place, as 
often as Louis removed from Rheims to Soissons, 
Laon, or any other of his royal castles; so that 
Osmond did not find much difficulty in displac- 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


123 

ing them, and letting in the sharp, cold, wintry 
breeze. The next thing he did was to give his 
young Lord a lecture on his want of courtesy, 
telling him that “no wonder the Franks thought 
he had no more culture than a Viking (or pirate), 
fresh caught from Norway. A fine notion he 
was giving them of the training he had at Cente- 
ville, if he could not even show common civility 
to the Queen—a lady! Was that the way Al- 
beric had behaved when he came to Rouen?” 

“Fru Astrida did not make sour faces at him, 
nor call him a young savage,” replied Richard. 

“No, and he gave her no reason to do so; he 
knew that the first teaching of a young Knight 
is to be courteous to ladies—never mind whether 
fair and young, or old and foul of favour. Till 
you learn and note that, Lord Richard, you will 
never be worthy of your golden spurs.” 

“And the King told me she would treat me as 
a mother,” exclaimed Richard. “Do you think 
the King speaks the truth, Osmond?” 

“That we shall see by his deeds,” said 
Osmond. 


124 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


“He was very kind while we were in Nor¬ 
mandy. I loved him so much better than the 
Count de Harcourt; but now I think that the 
Count is best! I’ll tell you, Osmond, I will 
never call him grim old Bernard again.” 

“You had best not, sir, for you will never have 
a more true-hearted vassal.” 

“Well, I wish we were back in Normandy, 
with Fru Astrida and Alberic. I cannot bear 
that Lothaire. He is proud, and unknightly, 
and cruel. I am sure he is, and I will never love 
him.” 

“Hush, my Lord!—beware of speaking so 
loud. You are not in your own Castle.” 

“And Carloman is a chicken-heart,” continued 
Richard, unheeding. “He does not like to touch 
snow, and he cannot even slide on the ice, and he 
is afraid to go near that great dog—that beauti¬ 
ful wolf-hound.” 

“He is very little,” said Osmond. 

“I am sure I was not as cowardly at his age, 
now was I, Osmond? Don’t you remember?” 

“Come, Lord Richard, I cannot let you wait 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


12 5 

to remember everything; tell your beads and 
pray that we may be brought safe back to Rouen; 
and that you may not forget all the good that 
Father Lucas and holy Abbot Martin have la¬ 
boured to teach you.” 

So Richard told the beads of his rosary—black 
polished wood, with amber at certain spaces—he 
repeated a prayer with every bead, and Osmond 
did the same; then the little Duke put himself 
into a narrow crib of richly carved walnut; while 
Osmond, having stuck his dagger so as to form 
an additional bolt to secure the door, and ex¬ 
amined the hangings that no secret entrance 
might be concealed behind them, gathered a heap 
of rushes together, and lay down on them, 
wrapped in his mantle, across the doorway. The 
Duke was soon asleep; but the Squire lay long 
awake, musing on the possible dangers that sur¬ 
rounded his charge, and on the best way of 
guarding against them. 


CHAPTER VII 


Osmond de Centeville was soon convinced 
that no immediate peril threatened his young 
Duke at the Court of Laon. Louis seemed to 
intend to fulfil his oaths to the Normans by al¬ 
lowing the child to be the companion of his own 
sons, and to be treated in every respect as became 
his rank. Richard had his proper place at table, 
and all due attendance; he learnt, rode, and 
played with the Princes, and there was nothing 
to complain of, excepting the coldness and in¬ 
attention with which the King and Queen 
treated him, by no means fulfilling the promise 
of being as parents to their orphan ward. Ger- 
berge, who had from the first dreaded his 
superior strength and his roughness with her 
puny boys, and who had been by no means won 
by his manners at their first meeting, was espe¬ 
cially distant and severe with him, hardly ever 

126 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


127 

speaking to him except with some rebuke, which, 
it must be confessed, Richard often deserved. 

As to the boys, his constant companions, Rich¬ 
ard was on very friendly terms with Carloman, 
a gentle, timid, weakly child. Richard looked 
down upon him; but he was kind, as a generous- 
tempered boy could not fail to be, to one younger 
and weaker than himself. He was so much 
kinder than Lothaire, that Carloman was fast 
growing very fond of him, and looked up to his 
strength and courage as something noble and 
marvellous. 

It was very different with Lothaire, the per¬ 
son from whom, above all others, Richard would 
have most expected to meet with affection, as 
his father’s god-son, a relationship which in those 
times was thought almost as near as kindred by 
blood. Lothaire had been brought up by an in¬ 
dulgent mother, and by courtiers who never 
ceased flattering him, as the heir to the crown, 
and he had learnt to think that to give way to 
his naturally imperious and violent disposition 
was the way to prove his power and assert his 


128 THE LITTLE DUKE 

rank. He had always had his own way, and 
nothing had ever been done to check his faults; 
somewhat weakly health had made him fretful 
and timid; and a latent consciousness of this 
fearfulness made him all the more cruel, some¬ 
times because he was frightened, sometimes be¬ 
cause he fancied it manly. 

He treated his little brother in a way which 
in these times boys would call bullying; and, 
as no one ever dared to oppose the King’s eldest 
son, it was pretty much the same with every one 
else, except now and then some dumb creature, 
and then all Lothaire’s cruelty was shown. 
When his horse kicked, and ended by throwing 
him, he stood by, and caused it to be beaten till 
the poor creature’s back streamed with blood; 
when his dog bit his hand in trying to seize the 
meat with which he was teasing it, he insisted 
on having it killed, and it was worse still when 
a falcon pecked one of his fingers. It really 
hurt him a good deal, and, in a furious rage, he 
caused two nails to be heated red hot in the fire, 


THE LITTLE DUKE 129 

intending to have them thrust into the poor 
bird’s eyes. 

“I will not have it done!” exclaimed Richard, 
expecting to be obeyed as he was at home; but 
Lothaire only laughed scornfully, saying, “Do 
you think you are master here, Sir pirate?” 

“I will not have it done!” repeated Richard. 
“Shame on you, shame on you, for thinking of 
such an unkingly deed.” 

“Shame on me! Do you know to whom you 
speak, master savage?” cried Lothaire, red with 
passion. 

“I know who is the savage now!” said Rich¬ 
ard. “Hold!” to the servant who was bringing 
the red-hot irons in a pair of tongs. 

“Hold?” exclaimed Lothaire. “No one com¬ 
mands here but I and my father. Go on, Chariot 
—where is the bird? Keep her fast, Giles.” 

“Osmond. You I can command-” 

“Come away, my Lord,” said Osmond, inter¬ 
rupting Richard’s order, before it was issued. 
“We have no right to interfere here, and cannot 
hinder it. Come away from such a foul sight.” 



13 ° 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


“Shame on you too, Osmond, to let such a deed 
be done without hindering it!” exclaimed Rich¬ 
ard, breaking from him, and rushing on the man 
who carried the hot irons. The French servants 
were not very willing to exert their strength 
against the Duke of Normandy, and Richard’s 
onset, taking the man by surprise, made him drop 
the tongs. Lothaire, both afraid and enraged, 
caught them up as a weapon of defence, and, 
hardly knowing what he did, struck full at Rich¬ 
ard’s face with the hot iron. Happily it missed 
his eye, and the heat had a little abated; but, as 
it touched his cheek, it burnt him sufficiently to 
cause considerable pain. With a cry of passion, 
he flew at Lothaire, shook him with all his might, 
and ended by throwing him at his length on the 
pavement. But this was the last of Richard’s 
exploits, for he was at the same moment cap¬ 
tured by his Squire, and borne off, struggling 
and kicking as if Osmond had been his greatest 
foe; but the young Norman’s arms were like 
iron round him; and he gave over his resistance 
sooner, because at that moment a whirring flap- 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


131 

ping sound was heard, and the poor hawk rose 
high, higher, over their heads in ever lessening 
circles, far away from her enemies. The serv¬ 
ant who held her, had relaxed his grasp in the 
consternation caused by Lothaire’s fall, and she 
was mounting up and up, spying, it might be, 
her way to her native rocks in Iceland, with the 
yellow eyes which Richard had saved. 

“Safe! Safe!” cried Richard, joyfully, ceasing 
his struggles. “Oh, how glad I am! That 
young villain should never have hurt her. Put 
me down, Osmond, what are you doing with 
me?” 

“Saving you from your-no, I cannot call it 

folly,—I would hardly have had you stand still 
to see such-but let me see your face.” 

“It is nothing. I don’t care now the hawk is 
safe,” said Richard, though he could hardly keep 
his lips in order, and was obliged to wink very 
hard with his eyes to keep the tears out, now 
that he had leisure to feel the smarting; but it 
would have been far beneath a Northman to 
complain, and he stood bearing it gallantly, and 




THE LITTLE DUKE 


132 

pinching his fingers tightly together, while Os¬ 
mond knelt down to examine the hurt. “ Tis 
not much/’ said he, talking to himself, “half 
bruise, half burn—I wish my grandmother was 
here—however, it can’t last long! Tis right, 
you bear it like a little Berserker, and it is no bad 
thing that you should have a scar to show, that 
they may not be able to say you did all the 
damage.” 

“Will it always leave a mark?” said Richard. 
“I am afraid they will call me Richard of the 
scarred cheek, when we get back to Normandy.” 

“Never mind, if they do—it will not be a mark 
to be ashamed of, even if it does last, which I 
do not believe it will.” 

“Oh, no, I am so glad the gallant falcon is out 
of his reach!” replied Richard, in a somewhat 
quivering voice. 

“Does it smart much? Well, come and bathe 
it with cold water—or shall I take you to one 
of the Queen’s women?” 

“No—the water,” said Richard, and to the 
fountain in the court they went; but Osmond 



I J> 


“Safe! Safe!” cried Richard, joyfully 


“Oh, how glad I am 













































THE LITTLE DUKE 


133 

had only just begun to splash the cheek with the 
half-frozen water, with a sort of rough kindness, 
afraid at once of teaching the Duke to be effemi¬ 
nate, and of not being as tender to him as Dame 
Astrida would have wished, when a messenger 
came in haste from the King, commanding the 
presence of the Duke of Normandy and his 
Squire. 

Lothaire was standing between his father and 
mother on their throne-like seat, leaning against 
the Queen, who had her arm round him; his face 
was red and glazed with tears, and he still shook 
with subsiding sobs. It was evident he was just 
recovering from a passionate crying fit. 

“How is this?” began the King, as Richard 
entered. “What means this conduct, my Lord 
of Normandy? Know you what you have done 
in striking the heir of France? I might imprison 
you this instant in a dungeon where you would 
never see the light of day.” 

“Then Bernard de Harcourt would come and 
set me free,” fearlessly answered Richard. 

“Do you bandy words with me, child? Ask 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


134 

Prince Lothaire’s pardon instantly, or you shall 

• . 33 

rue it. 

“I have done nothing to ask his pardon for. 
It would have been cruel and cowardly in me 
to let him put out the poor hawk’s eyes,” said 
Richard, with a Northman’s stern contempt for 
pain, disdaining to mention his own burnt cheek, 
which indeed the King might have seen plainly 
enough. 

“Hawk’s eyes!” repeated the King. “Speak 
the truth, Sir Duke; do not add slander to your 
other faults.” 

“I have spoken the truth—I always speak it!” 
cried Richard. “Whoever says otherwise lies in 
his throat.” 

Osmond here hastily interfered, and desired 
permission to tell the whole story. The hawk 
was a valuable bird, and Louis’ face darkened 
when he heard what Lothaire had purposed, for 
the Prince had, in telling his own story, made it 
appear that Richard had been the aggressor by 
insisting on letting the falcon fly. Osmond fin¬ 
ished by pointing to the mark on Richard’s cheek, 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


135 

so evidently a burn, as to be proof that hot iron 
had played a part in the matter. The King 
looked at one of his own Squires and asked his 
account, and he with some hesitation could not 
but reply that it was as the young Sieur de 
Centeville had said. Thereupon Louis angrily 
reproved his own people for having assisted the 
Prince in trying to injure the hawk, called for 
the chief falconer, rated him for not better at¬ 
tending to his birds, and went forth with him to 
see if the hawk could yet be recaptured, leaving 
the two boys neither punished nor pardoned. 

“So you have escaped for this once,’ 5 said Ger- 
berge, coldly, to Richard; “you had better be¬ 
ware another time. Come with me, my poor 
darling Lothaire.” She led her son away to her 
own apartments, and the French Squires began 
*to grumble to each other complaints of the im¬ 
possibility of pleasing their Lords, since, if they 
contradicted Prince Lothaire, he was so spiteful 
that he was sure to set the Queen against them, 
and that was far worse in the end than the King’s 
displeasure. Osmond, in the meantime, took 


136 THE LITTLE DUKE 

Richard to recommence bathing his face, and 
presently Carloman ran out to pity him, won¬ 
der at him for not crying, and say he was glad 
the poor hawk had escaped. 

The cheek continued inflamed and painful for 
some time, and there was a deep scar long after 

the pain had ceased, but Richard thought little 
of it after the first, and would have scorned to 

bear ill-will to Lothaire for the injury. 

Lothaire left off taunting Richard with his 
Norman accent, and calling him a young Sea- 
king. He had felt his strength, and was afraid 
of him; but he did not like him the better—he 
never played with him willingly—scowled, and 
looked dark and jealous, if his father, or if any 
of the great nobles took the least notice of the 
little Duke, and whenever he was out of hearing, 
talked against him with all his natural spite¬ 
fulness. 

Richard liked Lothaire quite as little, con¬ 
temning almost equally his cowardly ways and 
his imperious disposition. Since he had been 
Duke, Richard had been somewhat inclined to 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


137 


grow imperious himself, though always kept un¬ 
der restraint by Fru Astrida’s good training, and 
Count Bernard’s authority, and his whole gen¬ 
erous nature would have revolted against treat¬ 
ing Alberic, or indeed his meanest vassal, as 
Lothaire used the unfortunate children who were 
his playfellows. Perhaps this made him look on 
with great horror at the tyranny which Lothaire 
exercised; at any rate he learnt to abhor it more, 
and to make many resolutions against ordering 
people about uncivilly when once he should be 
in Normandy again. He often interfered to pro¬ 
tect the poor boys, and generally with success, 
for the Prince was afraid of provoking such an¬ 
other shake as Richard had once given him, and 
though he generally repaid himself on his victim 
in the end, he yielded for the time. 

Carloman, whom Richard often saved from 
his brother’s unkindness, clung closer and closer 
to him, went with him everywhere, tried to do 
all he did, grew very fond of Osmond, and liked 
nothing better than to sit by Richard in some 
wide window-seat, in the evening, after supper, 


138 THE LITTLE DUKE 

and listen to Richard’s version of some of Fru 
Astrida’s favourite tales, or hear the never- 
ending history of sports at Centeville, or at 
Rollo’s Tower, or settle what great things they 
would both do when they were grown up, and 
Richard was ruling Normandy—perhaps go to 
the Holy Land together, and slaughter an un¬ 
heard-of host of giants and dragons on the way. 
In the meantime, however, poor Carloman gave 
small promise of being able to perform great 
exploits, for he was very small for his age and 
often ailing; soon tired, and never able to bear 
much rough play. Richard, who had never had 
any reason to learn to forbear, did not at first 
understand this, and made Carloman cry sev¬ 
eral times with his roughness and violence, but 
this always vexed him so much that he grew 
careful to avoid such things for the future, and 
gradually learnt to treat his poor little weakly 
friend with a gentleness and patience at which 
Osmond used to marvel, and which he would 
hardly have been taught in his prosperity at 
home. 


THE LITTLE DUKE 139 

Between Carloman and Osmond he was thus 
tolerably happy at Laon, but he missed his own 
dear friends, and the loving greetings of his 
vassals, and longed earnestly to be at Rouen, 
asking Osmond almost every night when they 
should go back, to which Osmond could only 
answer that he must pray that Heaven would be 
pleased to bring them home safely. 

Osmond, in the meantime, kept a vigilant 
watch for anything that might seem to threaten 
danger to his Lord; but at present there was no 
token of any evil being intended; the only point 
in which Louis did not seem to be fulfilling his 
promises to the Normans was, that no prepara¬ 
tions were made for attacking the Count of 
Flanders. 

At Easter the court was visited by Hugh the 
White, the great Count of Paris, the most power¬ 
ful man in France, and who was only prevented 
by his own loyalty and forbearance, from taking 
the crown from the feeble and degenerate race 
of Charlemagne. He had been a firm friend of 
William Long Sword, and Osmond remarked 


HO THE LITTLE DUKE 

how, on his arrival, the King took care to tiring 
Richard forward, talk of him affectionately, and 
caress him almost as much as he had done at 
Rouen. The Count himself was really kind and 
affectionate to the little Duke; he kept him by 
his side, and seemed to like to stroke down his 
long flaxen hair, looking in his face with a grave 
mournful expression, as if seeking for a likeness 
to his father. He soon asked about the scar 
which the burn had left, and the King was 
obliged to answer hastily, it was an accident, a 
disaster that had chanced in a boyish quarrel. 
Louis, in fact, was uneasy, and appeared to be 
watching the Count of Paris the whole time of his 
visit, so as to prevent him from having any con¬ 
versation in private with the other great vassals 
assembled at the court. Hugh did not seem to 
perceive this, and acted as if he was entirely at 
his ease, but at the same time he watched his op¬ 
portunity. One evening, after supper, he came 
up to the window where Richard and Carloman 
were, as usual, deep in story telling; he sat down 
on the stone seat, and taking Richard on his 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


H 1 

knee, he asked if he had any greetings for the 
Count de Harcourt. 

How Richard’s face lighted up! “Oh, Sir,” 
he cried, “are you going to Normandy?” 

“Not yet, my boy, but it may be that I may 
have to meet old Harcourt at the Elm of Gisors.” 

“Oh, if I were but going with you.” 

“I wish I could take you, but it would scarcely 
do for me to steal the heir of Normandy. What 
shall I tell him?” 

“Tell him,” whispered Richard, edging him¬ 
self close to the Count, and trying to reach his 
ear, “tell him that I am sorry, now, that I was 
sullen when he reproved me. I know he was 
right. And, sir, if he brings with him a certain 
huntsman with a long hooked nose, whose name 
is Walter, 12 tell him I am sorry I used to order 
him about so unkindly. And tell him to bear 
my greetings to Fru Astrida and Sir Eric, and to 
Alberic.” 

“Shall I tell him how you have marked your 


face ?” 


142 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


“No,” said Richard, “he would think me a 
baby to care about such a thing as that!” 

The Count asked how it happened, and Rich¬ 
ard told the story, for he felt as if he could tell 
the kind Count anything—it was almost like 
that last evening that he had sat on his father’s 
knee. Hugh ended by putting his arm round 
him, and saying, “Well, my little Duke, I am 
as glad as you are the gallant bird is safe—it 
will be a tale for my own little Hugh and 
Eumacette 13 at home—and you must one day 
be friends with them as your father has been 
with me. And now, do you think your Squire 
could come to my chamber late this evening 
when the household is at rest?” 

Richard undertook that Osmond should do so, 
and the Count, setting him down again, re¬ 
turned to the dais. Osmond, before going to 
the Count that evening, ordered Sybald to come 
and guard the Duke’s door. It was a long con¬ 
ference, for Hugh had come to Laon chiefly for 
the purpose of seeing how it went with his 
friend’s son, and was anxious to know what 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


143 

Osmond thought of the matter. They agreed 
that at present there did not seem to be any evil 
intended, and that it rather appeared as if 
Louis wished only to keep him as a hostage for 
the tranquillity of the borders of Normandy; 
but Hugh advised that Osmond should main¬ 
tain a careful watch, and send intelligence to 
him on the first token of mischief. 

The next morning the Count of Paris quitted 
Laon, and everything went on in the usual 
course till the feast of Whitsuntide, when there 
was always a great display of splendour at the 
French court. The crown vassals generally 
came to pay their duty and go with the King 
to Church; and there was a state banquet, at 
which the King and Queen wore their crowns, 
and every one sat in great magnificence accord¬ 
ing to their rank. 

The grand procession to Church was over. 
Richard had walked with Carloman, the Prince 
richly dressed in blue, embroidered with golden 
fleur-de-lys, and Richard in scarlet, with a gold 
Cross on his breast; the beautiful service was 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


144 

over, they had returned to the Castle, and there 
the Seneschal was marshalling the goodly and 
noble company to the banquet, when horses’ 
feet were heard at the gate announcing some 
fresh arrival. The Seneschal went to receive 
the guests, and presently was heard ushering 
in the noble Prince, Arnulf, Count of Flanders. 

Richard’s face became pale—he turned from 
Carloman by whose side he had been standing, 
and walked straight out of the hall and up the 
stairs, closely followed by Osmond. In a few 
minutes there was a knock at the door of his 
chamber, and a French Knight stood there say¬ 
ing, “Comes not the Duke to the banquet?” 

“No,” answered Osmond: “he eats not with 
the slayer of his father.” 

“The King will take it amiss; for the sake of 
the child you had better beware,” said the 
Frenchman, hesitating. 

“He had better beware himself,” exclaimed 
Osmond, indignantly, “how he brings the treach¬ 
erous murderer of William Long Sword into the 
presence of a free-born Norman, unless he 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


H5 

would see him slain where he stands. Were it 
not for the boy, I would challenge the traitor 
this instant to single combat.” 

“Well, I can scarce blame you/’ said the 
Knight, “but you had best have a care how you 
tread. Farewell. 5 ’ 

Richard had hardly time to express his in¬ 
dignation, and his wishes that he was a man, 
before another message came through a groom 
of Lothaire’s train, that the Duke must fast, if 
he would not consent to feast with the rest. 

“Tell Prince Lothaire, 55 replied Richard, 
“that I am not such a glutton as he—I had 
rather fast than be choked with eating with 
Arnulf. 55 

All the rest of the day, Richard remained in 
his own chamber, resolved not to run the risk of 
meeting with Arnulf. The Squire remained 
with him, in this voluntary imprisonment, and 
they occupied themselves, as best they could, 
with furbishing Osmond’s armour, and helping 
each other out in repeating some of the Sagas. 
They once heard a great uproar in the court, 


146 THE LITTLE DUKE 

and both were very anxious to learn its cause, 
but they did not know it till late in the after¬ 
noon. 

Carloman crept up to them—“Here I am at 
last!” he exclaimed. “Here, Richard, I have 
brought you some bread, as you had no dinner: 
it was all I could bring. I saved it under the 
table lest Lothaire should see it.” 

Richard thanked Carloman with all his heart, 
and being very hungry was glad to share the 
bread with Osmond. He asked how long the 
wicked Count was going to stay, and rejoiced 
to hear he was going away the next morning, 
and the King was going with him. 

“What was that great noise in the court*?” 
then asked Richard. 

“I scarcely like to tell you,” returned Carlo- 
man. 

Richard, however, begged to hear, and Carlo- 
man was obliged to tell that the two Norman 
grooms, Sybald and Henry, had quarrelled with 
the Flemings of Arnulfs train; there had been 
a fray, which had ended in the death of three 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


147 


Flemings, a Frank, and of Sybald himself-- 

And where was Henry? Alas! there was more 
ill news—the King had sentenced Henry to 
die, and he had been hanged immediately. 

Dark with anger and sorrow grew young 
Richard’s face; he had been fond of his two 
Norman attendants, he trusted to their attach¬ 
ment, and he would have wept for their loss 
even if it had happened in any other way; but 
now, when it had been caused by their enmity to 
his father’s foes, the Flemings,—when one had 
fallen overwhelmed by numbers, and the other 
had been condemned hastily, cruelly, unjustly, 
it was too much, and he almost choked with 
grief and indignation. Why had he not been 
there, to claim Henry as his own vassal, and 
if he could not save him, at least bid him 
farewell? Then he would have broken out 
in angry threats, but he felt his own helpless¬ 
ness, and was ashamed, and he could only shed 
tears of passionate grief, refusing all Carlo- 
man’s attempts to comfort him. Osmond was 
even more concerned; he valued the two Nor- 



148 THE LITTLE DUKE 

mans extremely for their courage and faithful¬ 
ness, and had relied on sending intelligence by 
their means to Rouen, in case of need. It ap¬ 
peared to him as if the first opportunity had 
been seized of removing these protectors from 
the little Duke, and as if the designs, what¬ 
ever they might be, which had been formed 
against him, were about to take effect. He had 
little doubt that his own turn would be the 
next; but he was resolved to endure anything, 
rather than give the smallest opportunity of 
removing him, to bear even insults with pa¬ 
tience, and to remember that in his care rested 
the sole hope of safety for his charge. 

That danger was fast gathering around them 
became more evident every day, especially after 
the King and Arnulf had gone away together. 
It was very hot weather, and Richard began 
to weary after the broad cool river at Rouen, 
where he used to bathe last summer; and one 
evening he persuaded his Squire to go down 
with him to the Oise, which flowed along some 
meadow ground about a quarter of a mile from 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


H9 

the Castle; but they had hardly set forth be¬ 
fore three or four attendants came running 
after them, with express orders from the Queen 
that they should return immediately. They 
obeyed, and found her standing in the Castle 
hall, looking greatly incensed. 

“What means this*?” she asked, angrily. 
“Knew you not that the King has left com¬ 
mands that the Duke quits not the Castle in 
his absence ?” 

“I was only going as far as the river-” 

began Richard, but Gerberge cut him short. 
“Silence, child—I will hear no excuses. Per¬ 
haps you think, Sieur de Centeville, that you 
may take liberties in the King’s absence, but I 
tell you that if you are found without the 
walls again, it shall be at your peril; ay, and 
his! I’ll have those haughty eyes put out, 
if you disobey!” 14 

She turned away, and Lothaire looked at 
them with his air of gratified malice. “You 
will not lord it over your betters much longer, 
young pirate!” said he, as he followed his 



THE LITTLE DUKE 


150 

mother, afraid to stay to meet the anger he 
might have excited by the taunt he could not 
deny himself the pleasure of making; but Rich¬ 
ard, who six months ago could not brook a 
slight disappointment or opposition, had, in 
his present life of restraint, danger, and vexa¬ 
tion, learnt to curb the first outbreak of temper, 
and to bear patiently instead of breaking out 
into passion and threats, and now his only 
thought was of his beloved Squire. 

“Oh, Osmond! Osmond! 55 he exclaimed, 
“they shall not hurt you. I will never go out 
again. I will never speak another hasty word. 
I will never affront the Prince, if they will 
but leave you with me! 55 


CHAPTER VIII 


It was a fine summer evening, and Richard and 
Carloman were playing at ball on the steps of 
the Castle-gate, when a voice was heard from 
beneath, begging for alms from the noble 
Princes in the name of the blessed Virgin, and 
the two boys saw a pilgrim standing at the 
gate, wrapt in a long robe of serge, with a staff 
in his hand, surmounted by a Cross, a scrip 
at his girdle, and a broad shady hat, which 
he had taken off, as he stood, making low 
obeisances, and asking charity. 

“Come in, holy pilgrim,” said Carloman. “It 
is late, and you shall sup and rest here to¬ 
night.” 

“Blessings from Heaven light on you, noble 
Prince,” replied the pilgrim, and at that mo¬ 
ment Richard shouted joyfully, “A Norman, 
a Norman! ’tis my own dear speech! Oh, are 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


152 

you not from Normandy? Osmond, Osmond! 
he comes from home! 55 

“My Lord! My own Lord!” exclaimed the 
pilgrim, and, kneeling on one knee at the foot 
of the steps, he kissed the hand which his young 
Duke held out to him—“This is joy unlooked 
for!” 

“Walter!—Walter, the huntsman!” cried 
Richard. “Is it you? Oh, how is Fru Astrida, 
and all at home?” 

“Well, my Lord, and wearying to know how 
it is with you—” began Walter—but a very 
different tone exclaimed from behind the pil¬ 
grim, “What is all this? Who is stopping my 
way? What! Richard would be King, and 
more, would he? More insolence!” It was 
Lothaire, returning with his attendants from 
the chase, in by no means an amiable mood, for 
he had been disappointed of his game. 

“He is a Norman—a vassal of Richard’s 
own,” said Carloman. 

“A Norman, is he? I thought we had got rid 
of the robbers! We want no robbers here! 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


153 

Scourge him soundly, Perron, and teach him 
how to stop my way!” 

“He is a pilgrim, my Lord,” suggested one of 
the followers. 

“I care not; I’ll have no Normans here, 
coming spying in disguise. Scourge him, I say, 
dog that he is! Away with him! A spy, a 

15 ) 

spy! 

“No Norman is scourged in my sight!” said 
Richard, darting forwards, and throwing him¬ 
self between Walter and the woodsman, who 
was preparing to obey Lothaire, just in time 
to receive on his own bare neck the sharp, 
cutting leathern thong, which raised a long red 
streak along its course. Lothaire laughed. 

“My Lord Duke! What have you done*? 
Oh, leave me—this befits you not!” cried 
Walter, extremely distressed; but Richard had 
caught hold of the whip, and called out, “Away, 
away! run! haste, haste!” and the words were 
repeated at once by Osmond, Carloman, and 
many of the French, who, though afraid to 
disobey the Prince, were unwilling to violate 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


154 

the sanctity of a pilgrim’s person; and the Nor¬ 
man, seeing there was no help for it, obeyed: 
the French made way for him and he effected 
his escape; while Lothaire, after a great deal 
of storming and raging, went up to his mother 
to triumph in the cleverness with which he had 
detected a Norman spy in disguise. 

Lothaire was not far wrong; Walter had 
really come to satisfy himself as to the safety of 
the little Duke, and try to gain an interview 
with Osmond. In the latter purpose he failed, 
though he lingered in the neighbourhood of 
Laon for several days; for Osmond never left 
the Duke for an instant, and he was, as has 
been shown, a close prisoner, in all but the 
name, within the walls of the Castle. The pil¬ 
grim had, however, the opportunity of picking 
up tidings which made him perceive the true 
state of things: he learnt of the deaths of Sybald 
and Henry, the alliance between the King and 
Arnulf, and the restraint and harshness with 
which the Duke was treated; and with this in¬ 
telligence he went in haste to Normandy. 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


155 

Soon after his arrival, a three days 5 fast was 
observed throughout the dukedom, and in every 
church, from the Cathedral of Bayeux to the 
smallest and rudest village shrine, crowds of 
worshippers were kneeling, imploring, many of 
them with tears, that God would look on them 
in His mercy, restore to them their Prince, and 
deliver the child out of the hands of his en¬ 
emies. How earnest and sorrowful were the 
prayers offered at Centeville may well be im¬ 
agined; and at Montemar sur Epte the anxiety 
was scarcely less. Indeed, from the time the 
evil tidings arrived, Alberic grew so restless and 
unhappy, and so anxious to do something, that 
at last his mother set out with him on a pil¬ 
grimage to the Abbey of Jumieges, to pray for 
the rescue of his dear little Duke. 

In the meantime, Louis had sent notice to 
Laon that he should return home in a week’s 
time; and Richard rejoiced at the prospect, for 
the King had always been less unkind to him 
than the Queen, and he hoped to be released 
from his captivity within the Castle. Just at 


156 THE LITTLE DUKE 

this time he became very unwell; it might have 
been only the effect of the life of unwonted 
confinement which he had lately led that was 
beginning to tell on his health; but, after be¬ 
ing heavy and uncomfortable for a day or two, 
without knowing what was the matter with 
him, he was one night attacked with high fever. 

Osmond was dreadfully alarmed, knowing 
nothing at all of the treatment of illness, and, 
what was worse, fully persuaded that the poor 
child had been poisoned, and therefore resolved 
not to call any assistance; he hung over him all 
night, expecting each moment to see him ex¬ 
pire—ready to tear his hair with despair and 
fury, and yet obliged to restrain himself to the 
utmost quietness and gentleness, to soothe the 
suffering of the sick child. 

Through that night, Richard either tossed 
about on his narrow bed, or, when his restless¬ 
ness desired the change, sat, leaning his aching 
head on Osmond’s breast, too oppressed and 
miserable to speak or think. When the day 
dawned on them, and he was still too ill to 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


157 

leave the room, messengers were sent for him, 
and Osmond could no longer conceal the fact 
of his sickness, but parleyed at the door, keep¬ 
ing out every one he could, and refusing all 
offers of attendance. He would not even ad¬ 
mit Carloman, though Richard, hearing his 
voice, begged to see him; and when a proposal 
was sent from the Queen, that a skilful old nurse 
should visit and prescribe for the patient, he 
refused with all his might, and when he had 
shut the door, walked up and down, muttering, 
“Ay, ay, the witch! Coming to finish what she 
has begun!” 

All that day and the next, Richard continued 
very ill, and Osmond waited on him very as¬ 
siduously, never closing his eyes for a moment, 
but constantly telling his beads whenever the 
boy did not require his attendance. At last 
Richard fell asleep, slept long and soundly for 
some hours, and waked much better. Osmond 
was in a transport of joy: “Thanks to Heaven, 
they shall fail for this time and they shall 
never have another . chance. May Heaven be 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


158 

with us still!” Richard was too weak and weary 
to ask what he meant, and for the next few 
days Osmond watched him with the utmost 
care. As for food, now that Richard could eat 

again, Osmond would not hear of his touching 
what was sent for him from the royal table, but 
always went down himself to procure food 
in the kitchen, where he said he had a friend 
among the cooks, who would, he thought, 
scarcely poison him intentionally. When Rich¬ 
ard was able to cross the room, he insisted on 
his always fastening the door with his dagger, 
and never opening to any summons but his own, 
not even Prince Carloman’s. Richard won¬ 
dered, but he was obliged to obey; and he knew 
enough of the perils around him to perceive the 
reasonableness of Osmond’s caution. 

Thus several days had passed, the King had 
returned, and Richard was so much recovered, 
that he had become very anxious to be allowed 
to go down stairs again, instead of remaining 
shut up there; but still Osmond would not con¬ 
sent, though Richard had done nothing all day 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


159 

but walk round the room, to show how strong 
he was. 

“Now, my Lord, guard the door—take care,” 
said Osmond; “you have no loss to-day, for the 
King has brought home Herluin of Montreuil, 
whom you would be almost as loth to meet as 
the Fleming. And tell your beads while I am 
gone, that the Saints may bring us out of our 
peril.” 

Osmond was absent nearly half an hour, and, 
when he returned, brought on his shoulders a 
huge bundle of straw. “What is this for?” 
exclaimed Richard. “I wanted my supper, and 
you have brought straw!” 

“Here is your supper,” said Osmond, throw¬ 
ing down the straw, and producing a bag with 
some bread and meat. “What should you say, 
my Lord, if we should sup in Normandy to¬ 
morrow night?” 

“In Normandy!” cried Richard, springing up 
and clapping his hands. “In Normandy! Oh, 
Osmond, did you say in Normandy? Shall we, 


160 THE LITTLE DUKE 

shall we really? Oh, joy! joy! Is Count Ber¬ 
nard come? Will the King let us go?” 

“Hush! hush, sir! It must be our own doing; 
it will all fail if you are not silent and prudent, 
and we shall be undone.” 

“I will do anything to get home again!” 

“Eat first,” said Osmond. 

“But what are you going to do? I will not 
be as foolish as I was when you tried to get me 
safe out of Rollo’s tower. But I should like to 
wish Carloman farewell.” 

“That must not be,” said Osmond; “we 
should not have time to escape, if they did not 
still believe you very ill in bed.” 

“I am sorry not to wish Carloman good-bye,” 
repeated Richard; “but we shall see Fru Astrida 
again, and Sir Eric; and Alberic must come 
back! Oh, do let us go! O Normandy, dear 
Normandy!” 

Richard could hardly eat for excitement, 
while Osmond hastily made his arrangements, 
girding on his sword, and giving Richard his 
dagger to put into his belt. He placed the re- 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


161 


mainder of the provisions in his wallet, threw a 
thick purple cloth mantle over the Duke, and 
then desired him to lie down on the straw which 
he had brought in. “I shall hide you in it,” 
he said, “and carry you through the hall, as if 
I was going to feed my horse.” 

“Oh, they will never guess!” cried Richard, 
laughing. “I will be quite still—I will make no 
noise—I will hold my breath.” 

“Yes, mind you do not move hand or foot, 
or rustle the straw. It is no play—it is life 
or death,” said Osmond, as he disposed the 
straw round the little boy. “There, can you 
breathe ?” 

“Yes,” said Richard’s voice from the midst. 
“Am I quite hidden?” 

“Entirely. Now, remember, whatever hap¬ 
pens, do not move. May Heaven protect us! 
Now, the Saints be with us!” 

Richard, from the interior of the bundle heard 
Osmond set open the door; then he felt himself 
raised from the ground; Osmond was carrying 
him along down the stairs, the ends of the 


162 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


straw crushing and sweeping against the wall. 
The only way to the outer door was through the 
hall, and here was the danger. Richard heard 
voices, steps, loud singing and laughter, as if 
feasting was going on; then some one said, 
“Tending your horse, Sieur de Centeville?” 

“Yes,” Osmond made answer. “You know, 
since we lost our grooms, the poor black would 
come off badly, did I not attend to him.” 

Presently came Carloman’s voice: “O Os¬ 
mond de Centeville, is Richard better?” 

“He is better, my Lord, I thank you, but 
hardly yet out of danger.” 

“Oh, I wish he was well! And when will you 
let me come to him, Osmond? Indeed, I would 
sit quiet, and not disturb him.” 

“It may not be yet, my Lord, though the 
Duke loves you well—he told me so but now.” 

“Did he? Oh, tell him I love him very much 
—better than any one here—and it is very dull 
without him. Tell him so, Osmond.” 

Richard could hardly help calling out to his 
dear little Carloman; but he remembered the 


THE LITTLE DUKE 163 

peril of Osmond’s eyes and the Queen’s threat, 
and held his peace, with some vague notion that 
some day he would make Carloman King of 
France. In the meantime, half stifled with the 
straw, he felt himself carried on, down the 
steps, across the court; and then he knew, from 
the darkness and the changed sound of Os¬ 
mond’s tread, that they were in the stable. 
Osmond laid him carefully down, and whis¬ 
pered— 

“All right so far. You can breathe?” 

“Not well. Can’t you let me out?” 

“Not yet—not for worlds. Now tell me if I 
put you face downwards, for I cannot see.” 

He laid the living heap of straw across the 
saddle, bound it on, then led out the horse, 
gazing round cautiously as he did so; but the 
whole of the people of the Castle were feasting, 
and there was no one to watch the gates. Rich¬ 
ard heard the hollow sound of the hoofs, as the 
drawbridge was crossed, and knew that he was 
free; but still Osmond held his arm over him, 
and would not let him move, for some distance. 


164 THE LITTLE DUKE 

Then, just as Richard felt as if he could en¬ 
dure the stifling of the straw, and his uncom¬ 
fortable position, not a moment longer, Osmond 
stopped the horse, took him down, laid him 
on the grass, and released him. He gazed 
around; they were in a little wood; evening 
twilight was just coming on, and the birds 
sang sweetly. 

‘Tree! free!—this is freedom!” cried Rich¬ 
ard, leaping up in the delicious cool evening 
breeze; “the Queen and Lothaire, and that 
grim room, all far behind.” 

“Not so far yet,” said Osmond; “you must 
not call yourself safe till the Epte is between us 
and them. Into the saddle, my Lord; we must 
ride for our lives.” 

Osmond helped the Duke to mount, and 
sprang to the saddle behind him, set spurs to 
the horse, and rode on at a quick rate, though 
not at full speed, as he wished to spare the 
horse. The twilight faded, the stars came out, 
and still he rode, his arm round the child, who, 
as night advanced, grew weary, and often 


THE LITTLE DUKE 165 

sunk into a sort of half doze, conscious all the 
time of the trot of the horse. But each step 
was taking him further from Queen Gerberge, 
and nearer to Normandy; and what recked he 
of weariness*? On—on; the stars grew pale 
again, and the first pink light of dawn showed 
in the eastern sky; the sun rose, mounted higher 
and higher, and the day grew hotter; the horse 
went more slowly, stumbled, and though Os¬ 
mond halted and loosed the girth, he only 
mended his pace for a little while. 

Osmond looked grievously perplexed; but 
they had not gone much further before a party 
of merchants came in sight, winding their way 
with a long train of loaded mules, and stout 
men to guard them, across the plains, like an 
eastern caravan in the desert. They gazed in 
surprise at the tall young Norman holding the 
child upon the worn-out war-horse. 

“Sir merchant,” said Osmond to the first, “see 
you this steed? Better horse never was ridden; 
but he is sorely spent, and we must make 
speed. Let me barter him with you for yonder 


166 THE LITTLE DUKE 

stout palfrey. He is worth twice as much, 
but I cannot stop to chaffer—ay or no at once.” 

The merchant, seeing the value of Osmond s 
gallant black, accepted the offer; and Osmond 
removing his saddle, and placing Richard on 
his new steed, again mounted, and on they went 
through the country which Osmond’s eye had 
marked with the sagacity men acquire by living 
in wild, unsettled places. The great marshes 
were now far less dangerous than in the win¬ 
ter, and they safely crossed them. There had, 
as yet, been no pursuit, and Osmond’s only 
fear was for his little charge, who, not having 
recovered his full strength since his illness, be¬ 
gan to suffer greatly from fatigue in the heat of 
that broiling summer day, and leant against 
Osmond patiently, but very wearily, without 
moving or looking up. He scarcely revived 
when the sun went down, and a cool breeze 
sprang up, which much refreshed Osmond him¬ 
self; and still more did it refresh the Squire 
to see, at length, winding through the green 
pastures, a blue river, on the opposite bank of 


THE LITTLE DUKE 167 

which rose a high rocky mound, bearing a castle 
with many a turret and battlement. 

“The Epte! the Epte! There is Normandy, 
sir! Look up, and see your own dukedom.” 

“Normandy!” cried Richard, sitting upright. 
“Oh, my own home!” 

Still the Epte was wide and deep, and the 
peril was not yet ended. Osmond looked anx¬ 
iously, and rejoiced to see marks of cattle, as if it 
had been forded. “We must try it,” he said, and 
dismounting, he waded in, leading the horse, and 
firmly holding Richard in the saddle. Deep they 
went; the water rose to Richard’s feet, then to 
the horse’s neck; then the horse was swimming, 
and Osmond too, still keeping his firm hold; then 
there was ground again, the force of the cur¬ 
rent was less, and they were gaining the bank. 
At that instant, however, they perceived two 
men aiming at them with cross-bows from the 
castle, and another standing on the bank above 
them, who called out, “Hold! None pass the 
ford of Montemar without permission of the 
noble Dame Yolande.” 


168 THE LITTLE DUKE 

“Ha! Bertrand, the Seneschal, is that you?” 
returned Osmond. 

“Who calls me by my name?” replied the 
Seneschal. 

“It is I, Osmond de Centeville. Open your 
gates quickly, Sir Seneschal; for here is the Duke, 
sorely in need of rest and refreshment.” 

“The Duke!” exclaimed Bertrand, hurrying 
down to the landing-place, and throwing off his 
cap. “The Duke! The Duke!” rang out the 
shout from the men-at-arms on the battlements 
above; and in an instant more Osmond had led 
the horse up from the water, and was exclaim¬ 
ing, “Look up, my Lord, look up! You are 
in your own dukedom again, and this is Al- 
beric’s castle.” 

“Welcome, indeed, most noble Lord Duke! 
Blessings on the day!” cried the Seneschal. 
“What joy for my Lady and my young Lord!” 

“He is sorely weary,” said Osmond, looking 
anxiously at Richard, who, even at the welcome 
cries that showed so plainly that he was in his 
own Normandy, scarcely raised himself or 



“The Epte! The Epte! There is Normandy! Look up and see 

your dukedom.” 

























THE LITTLE DUKE 169 

spoke. “He had been very sick ere I brought 
him away. I doubt me they sought to poison 
him, and I vowed not to tarry at Laon another 
hour after he was fit to move. But cheer up, 
my Lord; you are safe and free now, and here 
is the good Dame de Montemar to tend you, 
far better than a rude Squire like me.” 

“Alas, no!” said the Seneschal; “our Dame is 
gone with young Alberic on a pilgrimage to 
Jumieges to pray for the Duke’s safety. What 
joy for them to know that their prayers have 
been granted!” 

Osmond, however, could scarcely rejoice, so 
alarmed was he at the extreme weariness and 
exhaustion of his charge, who, when they 
brought him into the Castle hall, hardly spoke 
or looked, and could not eat. They carried 
him up to Alberic’s bed, where he tossed about 
restlessly, too tired to sleep. 

“Alas! Alas!” said Osmond, “I have been too 
hasty. I have but saved him from the Franks 
to be his death by my own imprudence.” 

“Hush! Sieur de Centeville,” said the Sene- 


170 THE LITTLE DUKE 

schal’s wife, coming into the room. “To talk 
in that manner is the way to be his death, in¬ 
deed. Leave the child to me—he is only over¬ 
weary.” 

Osmond was sure his Duke was among 
friends, and would have been glad to trust 
him to a woman; but Richard had but one in¬ 
stinct left in all his weakness and exhaustion 
—to cling close to Osmond, as if he felt him 
his only friend and protector; for he was, as 
yet, too much worn out to understand that he 
was in Normandy and safe. For two or three 
hours, therefore, Osmond and the Seneschal’s 
wife watched on each side of his bed, soothing 
his restlessness, until at length he became quiet, 
and at last dropped into a sound sleep. 

The sun was high in the heavens when Rich¬ 
ard awoke. He turned on his straw-filled crib, 
and looked up. It was not the tapestried walls 
of his chamber at Laon that met his opening 
eyes, but the rugged stone and tall loop-hole 
window of a turret chamber. Osmond de Cente- 
ville lay on the floor by his side, in the sound 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


171 

sleep of one overcome by long watching and 
weariness. And what more did Richard see? 

It was the bright face and sparkling eyes of 
Alberic de Montemar, who was leaning against 
the foot of his bed, gazing earnestly, as he 
watched for his waking. There was a cry— 
“Alberic! Alberic!” “My Lord! My Lord!” 
Richard sat up and held out both arms, and 
Alberic flung himself into them. They hugged 
each other, and uttered broken exclamations 
and screams of joy, enough to have awakened 
any sleeper but one so wearied out as Osmond. 

“And is it true? Oh, am I really in Nor¬ 
mandy again?” cried Richard. 

“Yes, yes!—oh, yes, my Lord! You are at 
Montemar. Everything here is yours. The 
bar-tailed hawk is quite well, and my mother 
will be here this evening; she let me ride on 
the instant we heard the news.” 

“We rode long and late, and I was very 
weary,” said Richard; “but I don’t care, now we 
are at home. But I can hardly believe it! Oh, 
Alberic, it has been very dreary!” 


172 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


'‘See here, my Lord!” said Alberic, standing 
by the window. “Look here, and you will 
know you are at home again!” 

Richard bounded to the window, and what a 
sight met his eyes! The Castle court was 
thronged with men-at-arms and horses, the 
morning sun sparkling on many a burnished 
hauberk and tall conical helmet, and above 
them waved many a banner and pennon that 
Richard knew full well. “There! there!” he 
shouted aloud with glee. “Oh, there is the 
horse-shoe of Ferrieres! and there the chequers 
oFWarenne! Oh, and best of all, there is— 
there is our own red pennon of Centeville! O 
Alberic! Alberic! Is Sir Eric here? I must 
go down to him!” 

“Bertrand sent out notice to them all, as 
soon as you came, to come and guard our 
Castle,” said Alberic, “lest the Franks should 
pursue you; but you are safe now—safe as Nor¬ 
man spears can make you—thanks be to God!” 

“Yes, thanks to God!” said Richard, crossing 
himself, and kneeling reverently for some min- 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


173 

utes, while he repeated his Latin prayer; then, 
rising and looking at Alberic, he said, “I must 
thank Him, indeed, for he has saved Osmond 
and me from the cruel King and Queen, and I 
must try to be a less hasty and overbearing 
boy than I was when I went away; for I vowed 
that so I would be, if ever I came back. Poor 
Osmond, how soundly he sleeps! Come, Al¬ 
beric, show me the way to Sir Eric!” 

And, holding Alberic’s hand, Richard left the 
room, and descended the stairs to the Castle 
hall. Many of the Norman knights and barons, 
in full armour, were gathered there; but Rich¬ 
ard looked only for one. He knew Sir Eric’s 
grizzled hair, and blue inlaid armour, though 
his back was towards him, and in a moment, be¬ 
fore his entrance had been perceived, he sprang 
towards him, and, with outstretched arms, ex¬ 
claimed: “Sir Eric—dear Sir Eric, here I am! 
Osmond is safe! And is Fru Astrida well?” 

The old Baron turned. “My child!” he 
exclaimed, and clasped him in his mailed arms, 
while the tears flowed down his rugged cheeks. 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


174 

“Blessed be God that you are safe, and that my 
son has done his duty! 5 ’ 

“And is Fru Astrida well?” 

“Yes, right well, since she heard of your 
safety. But look round, my Lord; it befits not 
a Duke to be clinging thus round an old man’s 
neck. See how many of your true vassals be 
here, to guard you from the villain Franks.” 

Richard stood up, and held out his hand, 
bowing courteously and acknowledging the 
greetings of each bold baron, with a grace and 
readiness he certainly had not when he left 
Normandy. He was taller too; and though still 
pale, and not dressed with much care (since he 
had hurried on his clothes with no help but 
Alberic’s)—though his hair was rough and 
disordered, and the scar of the burn had not yet 
faded from his cheek—yet still, with his bright 
blue eyes, glad face, and upright form, he was 
a princely, promising boy, and the Norman 
knights looked at him with pride and joy, more 
especially when, unprompted, he said: “I 
thank you, gallant knights, for coming to guard 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


175 

me. I do not fear the whole French host now 
I am among my own true Normans. 5 ’ 

Sir Eric led him to the door of the hall to the 
top of the steps, that the men-at-arms might 
see him; and then such a shout rang out of 
“Long live Duke Richard! 55 —“Blessings on the 
little Duke! 55 —that it echoed and came back 
again from the hills around—it pealed from the 
old tower—it roused Osmond from his sleep— 
and, if anything more had been wanting to do 
so, it made Richard feel that he was indeed 
in a land where every heart glowed with loyal 
love for him. 

Before the shout had died away, a bugle- 
horn was heard winding before the gate; and 
Sir Eric, saying, “It is the Count of Harcourt’s 
note, 55 sent Bertrand to open the gates in haste, 
while Alberic followed, as Lord of the Castle, 
to receive the Count. 

The old Count rode into the court, and to 
the foot of the steps, where he dismounted, 
Alberic holding his stirrup. He had not taken 
many steps upwards before Richard came vol- 


176 THE LITTLE DUKE 

untarily to meet him (which he had never done 
before), held out his hand, and said, “Welcome, 
Count Bernard, welcome. Thank you for com¬ 
ing to guard me. I am very glad to see you 
once more/’ 

“Ah, my young Lord, 55 said Bernard, “I am 
right glad to see you out of the clutches of the 
Franks! You know friend from foe now, me- 
thinks!” 

“Yes, indeed I do, Count Bernard. I know 
you meant kindly by me, and that I ought to 
have thanked you, and not been angry, when 
you reproved me. Wait one moment, Sir 
Count; there is one thing that I promised.myself 
to say if ever I came safe to my own dear home. 
Walter—Maurice—Jeannot—all you of my 
household, and of Sir Eric’s—I know, before I 
went away, I was often no good Lord to you; I 
was passionate, and proud, and overbearing; 
but God has punished me for it, when I was 
far away among my enemies, and sick and 
lonely. I am very sorry for it, and I hope you 
will pardon me; for I will strive, and I hope 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


177 

God will help me, never to be proud and pas¬ 
sionate again.” 

“There, Sir Eric,” said Bernard, “you hear 
what the boy says. If he speaks it out so bold 
and free, without bidding, and if he holds to 
what he says, I doubt it not that he shall not 
grieve for his journey to France, and that we 
shall see him, in all things, such a Prince as 
his father of blessed memory.” 

“You must thank Osmond for me,” said 
Richard, as Osmond came down, awakened at 
length. “It is Osmond who has helped me to 
bear my troubles; and as to saving me, why he 
flew away with me even like an old eagle with 
its eaglet. I say, Osmond, you must ever after 
this wear a pair of wings on shield and pennon, 
to show how well we managed our flight.” 15 

“As you will, my Lord,” said Osmond, half 
asleep; “but ’twas a good long flight at a 
stretch, and I trust never to have to fly before 
your foes or mine again.” 

What a glad summer’s day was that! Even 
the three hours spent in council did but renew 


178 THE LITTLE DUKE 

the relish with which Richard visited Alberic’s 
treasures, told his adventures, and showed the 
accomplishments he had learnt at Laon. The 
evening was more joyous still; for the Castle 
gates were opened, first to receive Dame 
Yolande Montemar, and not above a quarter of 
an hour afterwards, the drawbridge was low¬ 
ered to admit the followers of Centeville; and 
in front of them appeared Fru Astrida’s own 
high cap. Richard made but one bound into 
her arms, and was clasped to her breast; then 
held off at arm’s-length, that she might see 
how much he was grown, and pity his scar; 
then hugged closer than ever: but, taking an¬ 
other look, she declared that Osmond left his 
hair like King Harold Horridlocks; 16 and, 
drawing an ivory comb from her pouch, began 
to pull out the thick tangles, hurting him to a 
degree that would once have made him rebel, 
but now he only fondled her the more. 

As to Osmond, when he knelt before her, she 
blessed him, and sobbed over him, and blamed 
him for over-tiring her darling, all in one; and 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


179 

assuredly, when night closed in and Richard 
had, as of old, told his beads beside her knee, 
the happiest boy in Normandy was its little 
Duke. 


CHAPTER IX 


Mont^mar was too near the frontier to be a 
safe abode for the little Duke, and his uncle, 
Count Hubert of Senlis, agreed with Bernard 
the Dane that he would be more secure beyond 
the limits of his own duchy, which was likely 
soon to be the scene of war; and, sorely against 
his will, he was sent in secret, under a strong 
escort, first to the Castle of Coucy, and after¬ 
wards to Senlis. 

His consolation was, that he was not again 
separated from his friends; Alberic, Sir Eric, 
and even Fru Astrida, accompanied him, as 
well as his constant follower, Osmond. In¬ 
deed, the Baron would hardly bear that he 
should be out of his sight; and he was still 
so carefully watched, that it was almost like a 
captivity. Never, even in the summer days, was 
he allowed to go beyond the Castle walls; and 
his guardians would fain have had it supposed 

180 


THE LITTLE DUKE 181 

that the Castle did not contain any such 
guest. 

Osmond did not give him so much of his 
company as usual, but was always at work 
in the armoiirer's forge—a low, vaulted cham¬ 
ber, opening into the Castle court. Richard 
and Alberic were very curious to know what he 
did there; but he fastened the door with an 
iron bar, and they were forced to content them¬ 
selves with listening to the strokes of the ham¬ 
mer, keeping time to the voice that sang out, 
loud and cheerily, the song of “Sigurd's sword, 
and the maiden sleeping within the ring of 
flame.” Fru Astrida said Osmond was quite 
right—no good weapon-smith ever toiled with 
open doors; and when the boys asked him ques¬ 
tions as to his work, he only smiled, and said 
that they would see what it was when the call 
to arms should come. 

They thought it near at hand, for tidings 
came that Louis had assembled his army, and 
marched into Normandy to recover the person 
of the young Duke, and to seize the country. 


182 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


No summons, however, arrived, but a message 
came instead, that Rouen had been surrendered 
into the hands of the King. Richard shed in¬ 
dignant tears. <£ My father’s Castle! My own 
city in the hands of the foe! Bernard is a 
traitor then! None shall hinder me from so 
calling him. Why did we trust him?” 

“Never fear, Lord Duke,” said Osmond. 
“When you come to the years of Knighthood, 
your own sword shall right you, in spite of all 
the false Danes, and falser Franks, in the 
land.” 

“What! You too, son Osmond? I deemed you 
carried a cooler brain than to miscall one who 
was true to Rollo’s race before you or yon var- 
let were born!” said the old Baron. 

“He has yielded my dukedom! It is mis¬ 
calling to say he is aught but a traitor!” cried 
Richard. “Vile, treacherous, favour-seek¬ 
ing-” 

“Peace, peace, my Lord,” said the Baron. 
“Bernard has more in that wary head of his 
than your young wits, or my old ones, can 



THE LITTLE DUKE 183 

unwind. What he is doing I may not guess, 
but I gage my life his heart is right.” 

Richard was silent, remembering he had been 
once unjust, but he grieved heartily when he 
thought of the French in Rollo’s tower, and it 
was further reported that the King was about 
to share Normandy among his French vassals. 
A fresh outcry broke out in the little garrison 
of Senlis, but Sir Eric still persisted in his 
trust in his friend Bernard, even when he heard 
that Centeville was marked out as the prey of 

the fat French Count who had served for a 
hostage at Rouen. 

“What say you now, my Lord?” said he, 
after a conference with a messenger at the gate. 
“The Black Raven has spread its wings. Fifty 
keels are in the Seine, and Harald Blue-tooth’s 
Long Serpent at the head of them.” 

“The King of Denmark! Come to my aid!” 

“Ay, that he is! Come at Bernard’s secret 
call, to right you, and put you on your father’s 
seat. Now call honest Harcourt a traitor, be- 


184 THE LITTLE DUKE 

cause he gave not up your fair dukedom to the 
flame and sword!” 

“No traitor to me,” said Richard, pausing. 

“No, verily, but what more would you say?” 

“I think, when I come to my dukedom, I will 
not be so politic,” said Richard. “I will be an 
open friend or an open foe.” 

“The boy grows too sharp for us,” said Sir 
Eric, smiling, “but it was spoken like his 
father.” 

“He grows more like his blessed father each 
day,” said Fru Astrida. 

“But the Danes, father, the Danes!” said 
Osmond. “Blows will be passing now. I may 
join the host and win my spurs?” 

“With all my heart,” returned the Baron, “so 
my Lord here gives you leave: would that I 
could leave him and go with you. It would do 
my very spirit good but to set foot in a North¬ 
ern keel once more.” 

“I would fain see what these men of the 
North are,” said Osmond. 

“Oh, they are only Danes, not Norsemen, and 


THE LITTLE DUKE 185 

there are no Vikings, such as once were when 

Ragnar laid waste-” 

“Son, son, what talk is this for the child’s 
ears?” broke in Fru Astrida. “Are these words 
for a Christian Baron?” 

“Your pardon, mother,” said the grey war¬ 
rior, in all humility, “but my blood thrills to 
hear of a Northern fleet at hand, and to think of 
Osmond drawing sword under a Sea-King.” 

The next morning, Osmond’s steed was led 
to the door, and such men-at-arms as could be 
spared from the garrison of Senlis were drawn 
up in readiness to accompany him. The boys 
stood on the steps, wishing they were old 
enough to be warriors, and wondering what 
had become of him, until at length the sound 
of an opening door startled them, and there, in 
the low archway of the smithy, the red furnace 
glowing behind him, stood Osmond, clad in 
bright steel, the links of his hauberk reflecting 
the light, and on his helmet a pair of golden 
wings, while the same device adorned his long 
pointed kite-shaped shield. 



i86 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


“Your wings! Our wings!” cried Richard. 
“The bearing of Centeville!” 

“May they fly after the foe, not before him,” 
said Sir Eric. “Speed thee well, my son—let 
not our Danish cousins say we learn Frank 
graces instead of Northern blows.” 

With such farewells, Osmond quitted Senlis,. 
while the two boys hastened to the battle¬ 
ments to watch him as long as he remained in 
view. 

The highest tower became their principal re¬ 
sort, and their eyes were constantly on the heath 
where he had disappeared; but days passed, and 
they grew weary of the watch, and betook them¬ 
selves to games in the Castle court. 

One day, Alberic, in the character of a 
Dragon, was lying on his back, panting hard 
so as to be supposed to cast out volumes of 
flame and smoke at Richard, the Knight, who 
with a stick for a lance, and a wooden sword, 
was waging fierce war; when suddenly the 
Dragon paused, sat up, and pointed towards 
the warder on the tower. His horn was at his 


THE LITTLE DUKE 187 

lips, and in another moment, the blast rang out 
through the Castle. 

With a loud shout, both boys rushed headlong 
up the turret stairs, and came to the top so 
breathless, that they could not even ask the 
warder what he saw. He pointed, and the 
keen-eyed Alberic exclaimed, “I see! Look, 
my Lord, a speck there on the heath!” 

“I do not see! Where, oh where?” 

“He is behind the hillock now, but-oh, 

there again! How fast he comes!” 

“It is like the flight of a bird,” said Rich¬ 
ard, “fast, fast-” 

“If only it be not flight in earnest,” said 
Alberic, a little anxiously, looking into the 
warder’s face, for he was a borderer, and tales 
of terror of the inroad of the Vicomte du Con- 
tentin were rife on the marches of the Epte. 

“No, young Sir,” said the warder, “no fear of 
that. I know how men ride when they flee from 
the battle.” 

* 

“No, indeed, there is no discomfiture in the 




i88 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


pace of that steed/ 5 said Sir Eric, who had by 
this time joined them. 

“I see him clearer! I see the horse/ 5 cried 
Richard, dancing with eagerness, so that Sir 
Eric caught hold of him, exclaiming, “You will 
be over the battlements! Hold still! Better hear 
of a battle lost than that! 55 

“He bears somewhat in his hand/ 5 said Al- 
beric. 

“A banner or pennon, 55 said the warder; “me- 
thinks he rides like the young Baron/ 5 

“He does! My brave boy! He has done 
good service/’ exclaimed Sir Eric, as the figure 
became more developed. “The Danes have 
seen how we train our young men. 55 

“His wings bring good tidings, 55 said Rich¬ 
ard. “Let me go, Sir Eric, I must tell Fru 
Astrida. 55 

The drawbridge was lowered, the portcullis 
raised, and as all the dwellers in the Castle 
stood gathered in the court, in rode the warrior 
with the winged helm, bearing in his hand a 
drooping banner; lowering it as he entered, it 


THE LITTLE DUKE 189 

unfolded, and displayed, trailing on the ground 
at the feet of the little Duke of Normandy, 
the golden lilies of France. 

A shout of amazement arose, and all gathered 
round him, asking hurried questions. “A great 
victory—the King a prisoner—Montreuil 
slain!” 

Richard would not be denied holding his 
hand, and leading him to the hall, and there, 
sitting around him, they heard his tidings. His 
father’s first question was, what he thought of 
their kinsmen, the Danes? 

“Rude comrades, father, I must own,” said 
Osmond, smiling, and shaking his head. “I 
could not pledge them in a skull-goblet—set in 
gold though it were.” 

“None the worse warriors,” said Sir Eric. 
“Ay, ay, and you were dainty, and brooked not 
the hearty old fashion of tearing the whole 
sheep to pieces. You must needs cut your por¬ 
tion with the fine French knife at your girdle.” 

Osmond could not see that a man was braver 
for being a savage, but he held his peace; and 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


190 

Richard impatiently begged to hear how the 
battle had gone, and where it had been fought. 

“On the bank of the Dive, 5 ’ said Osmond. 
“Ah, father, you might well call old Harcourt 
wary—his name might better have been Fox- 
heart than Bear-heart! He had sent to the 
Franks a message of distress, that the Danes 
were on him in full force, and to pray them to 
come to his aid.” 

“I trust there was no treachery. No foul 
dealing shall be wrought in my name,” ex¬ 
claimed Richard, with such dignity of tone and 

manner, as made all feel he was indeed their 

-1 

Duke, and forget his tender years. 

“No, or should I tell the tale with joy like 
this?” said Osmond. “Bernard’s view was to 
bring the Kings together, and let Louis see you 
had friends to maintain your right. He sought 
but to avoid bloodshed.” 

“And how chanced it?” 

“The Danes were encamped on the Dive, and 
so soon as the French came in sight, Blue-tooth 
sent a messenger to Louis, to summon him to 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


191 

quit Neustria, and leave it to you, its lawful 
owner. Thereupon, Louis, hoping to win him 
over with wily words, invited him to hold a 
personal conference.” 

“Where were you, Osmond?” 

“Where I had scarce patience to be. Bernard 
had gathered all of us honest Normans together, 
and arranged us beneath that standard of the 
King, as if to repel his Danish inroad. Oh, 
he was, in all seeming, hand-and-glove with 
Louis, guiding him by his counsel, and, verily, 
seeming his friend and best adviser! But in 
one thing he could not prevail. That ungrate¬ 
ful recreant, Herluin of Montreuil, came with 
the King, hoping, it seems, to get his share of 
our spoils; and when Bernard advised the King 
to send him home, since no true Norman could 
bear the sight of him, the hot-headed Franks 
vowed no Norman should hinder them from 
bringing whom they chose. So a tent was set 
up by the riverside, wherein the two Kings, 
with Bernard, Alan of Brittany, and Count 
Hugh, held their meeting. We all stood with- 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


192 

out, and the two hosts began to mingle to¬ 
gether, we Normans making acquaintance with 
the Danes. There was a red-haired, wild-look¬ 
ing fellow, who told me he had been with 
Anlaff in England, and spoke much of the 
doings of Hako in Norway; when, suddenly, he 
pointed to a Knight who was near, speaking to 
a Cotentinois, and asked me his name. My 
blood boiled as I answered, for it was Montreuil 
himself! ‘The cause of your Duke’s death!’ 
said the Dane. ‘Ha, ye Normans are fallen 
sons of Odin, to see him yet live!’ ” 

“You said, I trust, my son, that we follow 
not the laws of Odin?” said Fru Astrida. 

“I had no space for a word, grandmother; 
the Danes took the vengeance on themselves. 
In one moment they rushed on Herluin with 
their axes, and the unhappy man was dead. All 
was tumult; every one struck without knowing 
at whom, or for what. Some shouted, Thor 
Hulfe!' some ‘Dieu aide!' others c Montjoie St. 
Denis!' Northern blood against French, that 
was all our guide. I found myself at the foot 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


193 

of this standard, and had a hard combat for it; 
but I bore it away at last.” 

“And the Kings?” 

“They hurried out of the tent, it seems, to 
rejoin their men. Louis mounted, but you 
know of old, my Lord, he is but an indifferent 
horseman, and the beast carried him into the 
midst of the Danes, where King Harald caught 
his bridle, and delivered him to four Knights to 
keep. Whether he dealt secretly with them, or 
whether they, as they declared, lost sight of 
him whilst plundering his tent, I cannot say; 
but when Harald demanded him of them, he 
was gone.” 

“Gone! Is this what you call having the 
King prisoner?” 

“You shall hear. He rode four leagues, and 
met one of the baser sort of Rouennais, whom 
he bribed to hide him in the Isle of Willows. 
However, Bernard made close inquiries, found 
the fellow had been seen in speech with a 
French horseman, pounced on his wife and 
children, and threatened they should die if he 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


194 

did not disclose the secret. So the King was 
forced to come out of his hiding-place, and is 
now fast guarded in Rollo’s tower—a Dane, 
with a battle-axe on his shoulder, keeping guard 
at every turn of the stairs/ 5 

“Ha! ha! 55 cried Richard. “I wonder how he 
likes it. I wonder if he remembers holding me 
up to the window, and vowing that he meant 
me only good! 55 

“When you believed him, my Lord, 55 said 
Osmond, slyly. 

“I was a little boy then, 55 said Richard, 
proudly. “Why, the very walls must remind 
him of his oath, and how Count Bernard said, 
as he dealt with me, so might Heaven deal with 
him/ 5 

“Remember it, my child—beware of broken 
vows, 55 said Father Lucas; “but remember it not 
in triumph over a fallen foe. It were better 
that all came at once to the chapel, to bestow 
their thanksgivings where alone they are due/ 5 


CHAPTER X 

After nearly a year’s captivity, the King en¬ 
gaged to pay a ransom, and, until the terms 
could be arranged, his two sons were to be 
placed as hostages in the hands of the Normans, 
whilst he returned to his own domains. The 
Princes were to be sent to Bayeux; whither 
Richard had returned, under the charge of the 
Centevilles, and was now allowed to ride and 
walk abroad freely, provided he was accom¬ 
panied by a guard. 

“I shall rejoice to have Carloman, and make 
him happy,” said Richard; “but I wish Lothaire 
were not coming.” 

“Perhaps,” said the good Father Lucas, “he 
comes that you may have a first trial in your 
father’s last lesson, and Abbot Martin’s, and 
return good for evil.” 

The Duke’s cheek flushed, and he made no 
answer. 

195 


196 THE LITTLE DUKE 

He and Alberic betook themselves to the 
watch-tower, and, by and by, saw a cavalcade 
approaching, with a curtained vehicle in the 
midst, slung between two horses. “That can¬ 
not be the Princes,” said Alberic; “that must 
surely be some sick lady.” 

“I only hope it is not the Queen,” exclaimed 
Richard, in dismay. “But no; Lothaire is such 
a coward, no doubt he was afraid to ride, and 
she would not trust her darling without shut¬ 
ting him up like a demoiselle. But come down, 
Alberic; I will say nothing unkind of Lothaire, 
if I can help it.” 

Richard met the Princes in the court, his 
sunny hair uncovered, and bowing with such 
becoming courtesy, that Fru Astrida pressed her 
son’s arm, and bade him say if their little Duke 
was not the fairest and noblest child in Chris¬ 
tendom. 

With black looks, Lothaire stepped from the 
litter, took no heed of the little Duke, but, 
roughly calling his attendant, Chariot, to fol¬ 
low him, he marched into the hall, vouchsafing 


THE LITTLE DUKE 197 

neither word nor look to any as he passed, 
threw himself into the highest seat, and ordered 
Chariot to bring him some wine. 

Meanwhile, Richard, looking into the litter, 
saw Carloman crouching in a corner, sobbing 
with fright. 

“Carloman!—dear Carloman—do not cry! 
Come out! It is I—your own Richard! Will 
you not let me welcome you?” 

Carloman looked, caught at the outstretched 
hand, and clung to his neck. 

“Oh, Richard, send us back! Do not let the 
savage Danes kill us!” 

“No one will hurt you. There are no Danes 
here. You are my guest, my friend, my 
brother. Look up! Here is my own Fru As- 
trida.” 

“But my mother said the Northmen would 
kill us for keeping you captive. She wept and 
raved, and the cruel men dragged us away by 
force. Oh, let us go back!” 

“I cannot do that,” said Richard; “for you 
are the King of Denmark’s captives, not mine; 


198 THE LITTLE DUKE 

but I will love you, and you shall have all that 
is mine, if you will only not cry, dear Carlo- 
man. Oh, Fru Astrida, what shall I do? You 

comfort him-” as the poor boy clung sobbing 

to him. 

Fru Astrida advanced to take his hand, 
speaking in a soothing voice, but he shrank 
and started with a fresh cry of terror—her tall 
figure, high cap, and wrinkled face were to 
him witch-like, and as she knew no French, he 
understood not her kind words. However, he 
let Richard lead him into the hall, where 
Lothaire sat moodily in the chair, with one leg 
tucked under him, and his finger in his mouth. 

“I say, Sir Duke,” said he, “is there nothing 
to be had in this old den of yours? Not a drop 
of Bordeaux?” 

Richard tried to repress his anger at this very 
uncivil way of speaking, and answered, that he 
thought there was none, but there was plenty of 
Norman cider. 

“As if I would taste your mean peasant 



THE LITTLE DUKE 


199 

drinks! I bade them bring my supper—why 
does it not come?” 

“Because you are not master here,” trembled 
on Richard’s lips, but he forced it back, and 
answered that it would soon be ready, and 
Carloman looked imploringly at his brother, 
and said, “Do not make them angry, Lothaire.” 

“What, crying still, foolish child?” said 
Lothaire. “Do you not know that if they dare 
to cross us, my father will treat them as they 
deserve? Bring supper, I say, and let me have 
a pasty of ortolans.” 

“There are none—they are not in season,” 
said Richard. 

“Do you mean to give me nothing I like? I 
tell you it shall be the worse for you.” 

“There is a pullet roasting,” began Richard. 

“I tell you, I do not care for pullets—I will 
have ortolans.” 

“If I do not take order with that boy, my 
name is not Eric,” muttered the Baron. 

“What must he not have made our poor 
child suffer!” returned Fru Astrida, “but the 


200 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


little one moves my heart. How small and 
weakly he is, but it is worth anything to see 
our little Duke so tender to him. 5 ' 

“He is too brave not to be gentle/ 5 said 
Osmond; and, indeed, the high-spirited, impetu¬ 
ous boy was as soft and kind as a maiden, with 
that feeble, timid child. He coaxed him to eat, 
consoled him, and, instead of laughing at his 
fears, kept between him and the great blood¬ 
hound Hardigras, and drove it off when it came 
too near. 

“Take that dog away/ 5 said Lothaire, im¬ 
periously. No one moved to obey him, and the 
dog, in seeking for scraps, again came towards 
him. 

“Take it away/ 5 he repeated, and struck it 
with his foot. The dog growled, and Richard 
started up in indignation. 

“Prince Lothaire, 55 he said, “I care not what 
else you do, but my dogs and my people you 
shall not maltreat. 55 

“I tell you I am Prince! I do what I will! 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


201 


Ha! who laughs there?’ cried the passionate 
boy, stamping on the floor. 

“It is not so easy for French Princes to 
scourge free-born Normans here,” said the 
rough voice of Walter the huntsman: “there 
is a reckoning for the stripe my Lord Duke bore 
for me.” 

“Hush, hush, Walter,” began Richard; but 
Lothaire had caught up a footstool, and was 
aiming it at the huntsman, when his arm was 
caught. Osmond, who knew him well enough 
to be prepared for such outbreaks, held him 
fast by both hands, in spite of his passionate 
screams and struggles, which were like those 
of one frantic. 

Sir Eric, meanwhile, thundered forth in his 
Norman patois, “I would have you to know, 
young Sir, Prince though you be, you are our 
prisoner, and shall taste of a dungeon, and 
bread and water, unless you behave yourself.” 

Either Lothaire did not hear, or did not be¬ 
lieve, and fought more furiously in Osmond’s 
arms, but he had little chance with the stalwart 


202 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


young warrior, and, in spite of Richard’s re¬ 
monstrances, he was carried from the hall, 
roaring and kicking, and locked up alone in 
an empty room. 

“Let him alone for the present,” said Sir 
Eric, putting the Duke aside, “when he knows 
his master, we shall have peace.” 

Here Richard had to turn, to re-assure Carlo- 
man, who had taken refuge in a dark corner, 
and there shook like an aspen leaf, crying bit¬ 
terly, and starting with fright, when Richard 
touched him. 

“Oh, do not put me in the dungeon. I can¬ 
not bear the dark.” 

Richard again tried to comfort him, but he 
did not seem to hear or heed. “Oh, they said 
you would beat and hurt us for what we did 
to you! But, indeed, it was not I that burnt your 
cheek!” 

“We would not hurt you for worlds, dear 
Carloman; Lothaire is not in the dungeon—he 
is only shut up till he is good.” 

“It was Lothaire that did it,” repeated 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


203 

Carloman, “and, indeed, you must not be 
angry with me, for my mother was so cross 
with me for not having stopped Osmond when 
I met him with the bundle of straw, that she 
gave me a blow, that knocked me down. And 
were you really there, Richard? 5 

Richard told his story, and was glad to find 
Carloman could smile at it; and then Fru 
Astrida advised him to take his little friend to 
bed. Carloman would not lie down without 
still holding Richard’s hand, and the little Duke 
spared no pains to set him at rest, knowing 
what it was to be a desolate captive far from 
home. 

“I thought you would be good to me, 55 said 
Carloman. “As to Lothaire, it serves him right, 
that you should use him as he used you.” 

“Oh, no, Carloman; if I had a brother I would 
never speak so of him.” 

“But Lothaire is so unkind.” 

“Ah, but we must be kind to those who are 
unkind to us.” 

The child rose on his elbow, and looked into 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


204 

Richard’s face. “No one ever told me so 
before.” 

“Oh, Carloman, not Brother Hilary?” 

“I never heed Brother Hilary—he is so 
lengthy, and wearisome; besides, no one is ever 
kind to those that hate them.” 

“My father was,” said Richard. 

“And they killed him!” said Carloman. 

“Yes,” said Richard, crossing himself, “but 
he is gone to be in peace.” 

“I wonder if it is happier there, than here,” 
said Carloman. “I am not happy. But tell 
me why should we be good to those that hate 
us?” 

“Because the holy Saints were—and look at 
the Crucifix, Carloman. That was for them 
that hated Him. And, don’t you know what 
our Pater Noster says?” 

Poor little Carloman could only repeat the 
Lord’s Prayer in Latin—he had not the least 
notion of its meaning—in which Richard had 
been carefully instructed by Father Lucas. He 
began to explain it, but before many words 


THE LITTLE DUKE 205 

had passed his lips, little Carloman was asleep. 

The Duke crept softly away to beg to be 
allowed to go to Lothaire; he entered the room, 
already dark, with a pine torch in his hand, 
that so flickered in the wind, that he could 
at first see nothing, but presently beheld a dark 
lump on the floor. 

“Prince Lothaire,” he said, “here is-” 

Lothaire cut him short. “Get away,” he said. 
“If it is your turn now, it will be mine by 
and by. I wish my mother had kept her word, 
and put your eyes out.” 

Richard’s temper did not serve for such a 
reply. “It is a foul shame of you to speak so, 
when I only came out of kindness to you—so I 
shall leave you here all night, and not ask 
Sir Eric to let you out.” 

And he swung back the heavy door with a 
resounding clang. But his heart smote him 
when he told his beads, and remembered what 
he had said to Carloman. He knew he could 
not sleep in his warm bed when Lothaire was 
in that cold gusty room. To be sure, Sir Eric 



206 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


said it would do him good, but Sir Eric little 
knew how tender the French Princes were. 

So Richard crept down in the dark, slid back 
the bolt, and called, “Prince, Prince, I am sorry 
I was angry. Come out, and let us try to be 
friends.” 

“What do you mean?” said Lothaire. 

“Come out of the cold and dark. Here am I. 
I will show you the way. Where is your 
hand? Oh, how cold it is. Let me lead you 
down to the hall fire.” 

Lothaire was subdued by fright, cold, and 
darkness, and quietly allowed Richard to lead 
him down. Round the fire, at the lower end of 
the hall, snored half-a-dozen men-at-arms; at 
the upper hearth there was only Hardigras, who 
raised his head as the boys came in. Richard’s 
whisper and soft pat quieted him instantly, and 
the two little Princes sat on the hearth together, 
Lothaire surprised, but sullen. Richard stirred 
the embers, so as to bring out more heat, then 
spoke: “Prince, will you let us be friends?” 

“I must, if I am in your power.” 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


207 

“I wish you would be my guest and com¬ 
rade.” 

“Well, I will; I can’t help it.” 

Richard thought his advances might have 
been more graciously met, and, having little en¬ 
couragement to say more, took Lothaire to bed, 
as soon as he was warm. 


CHAPTER XI 


As the Baron had said, there was more peace 
now that Lothaire had learnt to know that he 
must submit, and that no one cared for his 
threats of his father’s or his mother’s vengeance. 
He was very sulky and disagreeable, and 
severely tried Richard’s forbearance; but there 
were no fresh outbursts, and, on the whole, 
from one week to another, there might be said 
to be an improvement. He could not always 
hold aloof from one so good-natured and good- 
humoured as the little Duke; and the fact of 
being kept in order could not but have some 
beneficial effect on him, after such spoiling as 
his had been at home. 

Indeed, Osmond was once heard to say, it 
was a pity the boy was not to be a hostage for 
life; to which Sir Eric replied, “So long as we 
have not the training of him.” 

Little Carloman, meanwhile, recovered from 

208 


THE LITTLE DUKE 209 

his fears of all the inmates of the Castle ex¬ 
cepting Hardigras, at whose approach he al¬ 
ways shrank and trembled. 

He renewed his friendship with Osmond, no 
longer started at the entrance of Sir Eric, 
laughed at Alberts merry ways, and liked to 
sit on Fru Astrida’s lap, and hear her sing, 
though he understood not one word; but his 
especial love was still for his first friend, Duke 
Richard. Hand-in-hand they went about to¬ 
gether, Richard sometimes lifting him up the 
steep steps, and, out of consideration for him, 
refraining from rough play; and Richard led 
him to join with him in those lessons that Father 
Lucas gave the children of the Castle, every 
Friday and Sunday evening in the Chapel. The 
good Priest stood on the Altar steps, with the 
children in a half circle round him—the son 
and daughter of the armourer, the huntsman’s 
little son, the young Baron de Montemar, the 
Duke of Normandy, and the Prince of France, 
all were equal there—and together they learnt, 
as he explained to them the things most need- 


210 THE LITTLE DUKE 

ful to believe; and thus Carloman left off won¬ 
dering why Richard thought it right to be good 
to his enemies; and though at first he had known 
less than even the little leather-coated hunts¬ 
man, he seemed to take the holy lessons in 
faster than any of them—yes, and act on them, 
too. His feeble health seemed to make him en¬ 
ter into their comfort and meaning more than 
even Richard; and Alberic and Father Lucas 
soon told Fru Astrida that it was a saintly- 
minded child. 

Indeed, Carloman was more disposed to 
thoughtfulness, because he was incapable of 
joining in the sports of the other boys. A race 
round the court was beyond his strength, the 
fresh winds on the battlements made him shiver 
and cower, and loud shouting play was dreadful 
to him. In old times, he used to cry when 
Lothaire told him he must have his hair cut, and 
be a priest; now, he only said quietly, he should 
like it very much, if he could be good enough. 

Fru Astrida sighed and shook her head, and 
feared the poor child would never grow up 


THE LITTLE DUKE 211 

to be anything on this earth. Great as had 
been the difference at first between him and 
Richard, it was now far greater. Richard was 
an unusually strong boy for ten years old, up¬ 
right and broad-chested, and growing very fast; 
while Carloman seemed to dwindle, stooped 
forward from weakness, had thin pinched fea¬ 
tures, and sallow cheeks, looking like a plant 
kept in the dark. 

The old Baron said that hardy, healthy habits 
would restore the puny children; and Lothaire 
improved in health, and therewith in temper; 
but his little brother had not strength enough 
to bear the seasoning. He pined and drooped 
more each day; and as the autumn came on, and 
the wind was chilly, he grew worse, and was 
scarcely ever off the lap of the kind Lady 
Astrida. It was not a settled sickness, but he 
grew weaker, and wasted away. They made 
up a little couch for him by the fire, with the 
high settle between it and the door, to keep off 
the draughts; and there he used patiently to 
lie, hour after hour, speaking feebly, or smiling 


212 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


and seeming pleased, when any one of those he 
loved approached. He liked Father Lucas to 
come and say prayers with him; and he never 
failed to have a glad look, when his dear little 
Duke came to talk to him, in his cheerful voice, 
about his rides and his hunting and hawking 
adventures. Richard’s sick guest took up much 
of his thoughts, and he never willingly spent 
many hours at a distance from him, softening 
his step and lowering his voice, as he entered 
the hall, lest Carloman should be asleep. 

“Richard, is it you?” said the little boy, as 
the young figure came round the settle in the 
darkening twilight. 

“Yes. How do you feel now, Carloman; are 
you better?” 

“No better, thanks, dear Richard”; and the 
little wasted fingers were put into his. 

“Has the pain come again?” 

“No; I have been lying still, musing; Rich¬ 
ard, I shall never be better.” 

“Oh, do not say so! You will, indeed you 
will, when spring comes.” 


THE LITTLE DUKE 213 

I feel as if I should die,” said the little 
D°y; I think I shall. But do not grieve, Rich¬ 
ard. I do not feel much afraid. You said it 
was happier there than here, and I know it 
now.” 

“Where my blessed father is,” said Richard, 
thoughtfully. “But oh, Carloman, you are so 
young to die!” 

“I do not want to live. This is a fighting, 
hard world, full of cruel people; and it is peace 
there. You are strong and brave, and will 
make them better; but I am weak and fearful— 
I could only sigh and grieve.” 

“Oh, Carloman! Carloman! I cannot spare 
you. I love you like my own brother. You 
must not die—you must live to see your father 
and mother again!” 

“Commend me to them,” said Carloman. “I 
am going to my Father in heaven. I am glad I 
am here, Richard; I never was so happy before. 

I should have been afraid indeed to die, if 
Father Lucas had not taught me how my sins 


214 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


are pardoned. Now, I think the Saints and 
Angels are waiting for me.” 

He spoke feebly, and his last words faltered 
into sleep. He slept on; and when supper was 
brought, and the lamps were lighted, Fru 
Astrida thought the little face looked unusually 
pale and waxen; but he did not awake. At 
night, they carried him to his bed, and he was 
roused into a half conscious state, moaning at 
being disturbed. Fru Astrida would not leave 
him, and Father Lucas shared her watch. 

At midnight, all were wakened by the slow 
notes, falling one by one on the ear, of the sol¬ 
emn passing-bell, calling them to waken, that 
their prayers might speed a soul on its way. 
Richard and Lothaire were soon at the bedside. 
Carloman lay still asleep, his hands folded on 
his breast, but his breath came in long gasps. 
Father Lucas was praying over him, and candles 
were placed on each side of the bed. All was 
still, the boys not daring to speak or move. 
There came a longer breath—then they heard no 
more. He was, indeed, gone to a happier home 




THE LITTLE DUKE 


215 

a truer royalty than ever had been his on 
earth. 

Then the boys’ grief burst out. Lothaire 
screamed for his mother, and sobbed out that 
he should die too—he must go home. Richard 
stood by the bed, large silent tears rolling down 
his cheeks, and his chest heaving with suppressed 
sobs. 

Fru Astrida led them from the room, back to 
their beds. Lothaire soon cried himself to sleep. 
Richard lay awake, sorrowful, and in deep 
thought, while that scene in St. Mary’s, at 
Rouen, returned before his eyes, and though it 
had passed nearly two years ago, its meaning 
and its teaching had sunk deep into his mind, 
and now stood before him more completely. 

“Where shall I go, when I come to die, if I 
have not returned good for evil?” And a resolu¬ 
tion was taken in the mind of the little Duke. 

Morning came, and brought back the sense 
that his gentle little companion was gone from 
him; and Richard wept again, as if he could not 
be consoled, as he beheld the screened couch 


2 l6 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


where the patient smile would never again greet 
him. He now knew that he had loved Carloman 
all the more for his weakness and helplessness; 
but his grief was not like Lothaire’s, for with 
the Prince's was still joined a selfish fear: his 
cry was still, that he should die too, if not set 
free, and violent weeping really made him heavy 
and ill. 

The little corpse, embalmed and lapped in 
lead, was to be sent back to France, that it might 
rest with its forefathers in the city of Rheims; 
and Lothaire seemed to feel this as an additional 
stroke of desertion. He was almost beside him¬ 
self with despair, imploring every one, in turn, 
to send him home, though he well knew they 
were unable to do so. 


CHAPTER XII 


“Sir Eric,” said Richard, “you told me there 
was a Parlement to be held at Falaise, between 
Count Bernard and the King of Denmark. I 
mean to attend it. Will you come with me, or 
shall Osmond go, and you remain in charge of 
the Prince?” 

“How now, Lord Richard, you were not wont 
to love a Parlement?” 

“I have something to say,” replied Richard. 

The Baron made no objection, only telling his 
mother that the Duke was a marvellous wise 
child, and that he would soon be fit to take the 
government himself. 

Lothaire lamented the more when he found 
that Richard was going away; his presence 
seemed to him a protection, and he fancied, now 
Carloman was dead, that his former injuries 
were about to be revenged. The Duke assured 
him, repeatedly, that he meant him nothing but 

217 


2 l8 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


kindness, adding, “When I return, you will see, 
Lothaire”; then, commending him to the care 
and kindness of Fru Astrida, Osmond, and Al- 
beric, Richard set forth upon his pony, attended 
by Sir Eric and three men-at-arms. 

Richard felt sad when he looked back at 
Bayeux, and thought that it no longer contained 
his dear little friend; but it was a fresh bright 
frosty morning, the fields were covered with a 
silvery-white coating, the flakes of hoar-frost 
sparkled on every bush, and the hard ground 
rung cheerily to the tread of the horses’ feet. As 
the yellow sun fought his way through the grey 
mists that dimmed his brightness, and shone out 
merrily in the blue heights of the sky, Richard’s 
spirits rose, and he laughed and shouted, as hare 
or rabbit rushed across the heath, or as the plover 
rose screaming above his head, flapping her broad 
wings across the wintry sky. 

One night they slept at a Convent, where they 
heard that Hugh of Paris had passed on to join 
the conference at Falaise. The next day they 
rode on, and, towards the afternoon, the Baron 


THE LITTLE DUKE 219 

pointed to a sharp rocky range of hills, crowned 
by a tall solid tower, and told Richard, yonder 
was his keep of Falaise, the strongest Castle in 
Normandy. 

The country was far more broken as they 
advanced—narrow valleys and sharp hills, each 
little vale full of wood, and interspersed with 
rocks. “A choice place for game,” Sir Eric said; 
and Richard, as he saw a herd of deer dash down 
a forest glade, exclaimed, “that they must come 
here to stay, for some autumn sport.” 

There seemed to be huntsmen abroad in the 
woods; for through the frosty air came the bay¬ 
ing of dogs, the shouts and calls of men, and, 
now and then, the echoing, ringing notes of a 
bugle. Richard’s eyes and cheeks glowed with 
excitement, and he pushed his brisk little pony 
on faster and faster, unheeding that the heavier 
men and horses of his suite were not keeping 
pace with him on the rough ground and through 
the tangled boughs. 

Presently, a strange sound of growling and 
snarling was heard close at hand: his pony 


220 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


swerved aside, and could not be made to ad¬ 
vance ; so Richard, dismounting, dashed through 
some briars, and there, on an open space, beneath 
a precipice of dark ivy-covered rock, that rose 
like a wall, he beheld a huge grey wolf and a 
large dog in mortal combat. It was as if they 
had fallen or rolled down the precipice together, 
not heeding it in their fury. Both were bleed¬ 
ing, and the eyes of both glared like red fiery 
glass in the dark shadow of the rock. The dog 
lay undermost, almost overpowered, making but 
a feeble resistance; and the wolf would, in an¬ 
other moment, be at liberty to spring on the 
lonely child. 

But not a thought of fear passed through his 
breast; to save the dog was Richard’s only idea. 
In one moment he had drawn the dagger he wore 
at his girdle, ran to the two struggling animals, 
and with all his force, plunged it into the throat 
of the wolf, which, happily, was still held by 
the teeth of the hound. 

The struggles relaxed, the wolf rolled heavily 
aside, dead; the dog lay panting and bleeding, 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


221 


and Richard feared he was cruelly torn. “Poor 
fellow! Noble dog! What shall I do to help 
you*?” and he gently smoothed the dark brindled 
head. 

A voice was now heard shouting aloud, at 
which the dog raised and crested his head, as a 
figure in a hunting dress was coming down a 
rocky pathway, an extremely tall, well-made 
man, of noble features. “Ha! Holla! Vige! 
Vige! How now, my brave hound?” he said in 
the Northern tongue, though not quite with the 
accent Richard was accustomed to hear, “Art 
hurt?” 

“Much torn, I fear,” Richard called out, as 
the faithful creature wagged his tail, and strove 
to rise and meet his master. 

“Ha, lad! What art thou?” exclaimed the 
hunter, amazed at seeing the boy between the 
dead wolf and wounded dog. You look like 
one of those Frenchified Norman gentilesse, with 
your smooth locks and gilded baldrick, yet your 
words are Norse. By the hammer of Thor! That 
is a dagger in the wolf s throat! 


222 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


“It is mine,” said Richard. “I found your 
dog nearly spent, and I made in to the rescue.” 

“You did? Well done! I would not have 
lost Vige for all the plunder of Italy. I am 
beholden to you, my brave young lad,” said the 
stranger, all the time examining and caressing 
the hound. “What is your name? You cannot 
be Southern bred?” 

As he spoke, more shouts came near; and the 
Baron de Centeville rushed through the trees 
holding Richard's pony by the bridle. “My 
Lord, my Lord!—oh, thank Heaven, I see you 
safe!” At the same moment a party of hunters 
also approached by the path, and at the head of 
them Bernard the Dane. 

“Ha!” exclaimed he, “what do I see? My 
young Lord! What brought you here?” And 
with a hasty obeisance, Bernard took Richard’s 
outstretched hand. 

“I came hither to attend your council,” replied 
Richard. “I have a boon to ask of the King of 
Denmark.” 

“Any boon the King of Denmark has in his 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


223 


power will be yours,” said the dog’s master, slap¬ 
ping his hand on the little Duke’s shoulder, with 
a rude, hearty familiarity, that took him by sur¬ 
prise ; and he looked up with a shade of offence, 
till, on a sudden flash of perception, he took off 
his cap, exclaiming, “King Harald himself! 
Pardon me, Sir King!” 

“Pardon, Jarl Richart! What would you 
have me pardon ?—Your saving the life of Vige 
here? No French politeness for me. Tell me 
your boon, and it is yours. Shall I take you a 
voyage, and harry the fat monks of Ireland?” 

Richard recoiled a little from his new friend. 

“Oh, ha! I forgot. They have made a Chris¬ 
tian of you—more’s the pity. You have the 
Northern spirit so strong. I had forgotten it. 
Come, walk by my side, and let me hear what 
you would ask. Holla, you Sweyn! Carry Vige 
up to the Castle, and look to his wounds. Now 
for it, young Jarl.” 

“My boon is, that you would set free Prince 
Lothaire.” 

“What, the young Frank? Why they kept 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


224 

3^011 captive, burnt your face, and would have 
made an end of you but for your clever Bonder.” 

4 ‘That is long past, and Lothaire is so 
wretched. His brother is dead, and he is sick 
with grief, and he says he shall die, if he does 
not go home.” 

“A good thing too for the treacherous race to 
die out in him! What should you care for him? 
He is your foe.” 

“I am a Christian,” was Richard’s answer. 

“Well, I promised you whatever you might 
ask. All my share of his ransom, or his person, 
bond or free, is yours. You have only to prevail 
with your own Jarls and Bonders.” 

Richard feared this would be more difficult; 
but Abbot Martin came to the meeting, and took 
his part. Moreover, the idea of their hostage 
dying in their hands, so as to leave them with¬ 
out hold upon the King, had much weight with 
them; and, after long deliberation, they con¬ 
sented that Lothaire should be restored to his 
father, without ransom but only on condition 
that Louis should guarantee to the Duke the 


THE LITTLE DUKE 225 

peaceable possession of the country, as far as 
St. Clair sur Epte, which had been long in dis¬ 
pute; so that Alberic became, indisputably, a 
vassal of Normandy. 

Perhaps it was the happiest day in Richard’s 
life when he rode back to Bayeux, to desire Lo- 
thaire to prepare to come with him to St. Clair, 
there to be given back into the hands of his 
father. 

And then they met King Louis, grave and sor¬ 
rowful for the loss of his little Carloman, and, 
for the time, repenting of his misdeeds towards 
the orphan heir of Normandy. 

He pressed the Duke in his arms, and his kiss 
was a genuine one as he said, “Duke Richard, we 
have not deserved this of you. I did not treat 
you as you have treated my children. We will 
be true lord and vassal from henceforth.” 

Lothaire’s last words were, “Farewell, Rich¬ 
ard. If I lived with you, I might be good like 
you. I will never forget what you have done 
for me.” 

When Richard once more entered Rouen in 


226 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


state, his subjects shouting round him in trans¬ 
ports of joy, better than all his honour and glory 
was the being able to enter the Church of our 
Lady, and kneel by his father’s grave, with a 
clear conscience, and the sense that he had tried 
to keep that last injunction. 


CONCLUSION 


Years had passed away. The oaths of Louis, 
and promises of Lothaire, had been broken; and 
Arnulf of Flanders, the murderer of Duke Wil¬ 
liam, had incited them to repeated and treacher¬ 
ous inroads on Normandy; so that Richard’s life, 
from fourteen to five or six-and-twenty, had been 
one long war in defence of his country. But it 
had been a glorious war for him, and his gal¬ 
lant deeds had well earned for him the title of 
“Richard the Fearless”—a name well deserved; 
for there was but one thing he feared, and that 
was, to do wrong. 

By and by, success and peace came; and then 
Arnulf of Flanders, finding open force would 
not destroy him, three times made attempts to 
assassinate him, like his father, by treachery. 
But all these had failed; and now Richard had 
enjoyed many years of peace and honour, whilst 
his enemies had vanished from his sight. 

227 


228 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


King Louis was killed by a fall from his horse; 
Lothaire died in early youth, and in him ended 
the degenerate line of Charlemagne; Hugh 
Capet, the son of Richard’s old friend, Hugh the 
White, was on the throne of France, his sure ally 
and brother-in-law, looking to him for advice 
and aid in all his undertakings. 

Fru Astrida and Sir Eric had long been in 
their quiet graves; Osmond and Alberic were 
among Richard’s most trusty councillors and 
warriors; Abbot Martin, in extreme old age, still 
ruled the Abbey of Jumieges, where Richard, 
like his father, loved to visit him, hold converse 
with him, and refresh himself in the peaceful 
cloister, after the affairs of state and war. 

And Richard himself was a grey-headed man, 
of lofty stature and majestic bearing. His el¬ 
dest son was older than he had been himself when 
he became the little Duke, and he had even be¬ 
gun to remember his father’s project, of an old 
age to be spent in retirement and peace. 

It was on a summer eve, that Duke Richard 
sat beside the white-bearded old Abbot, within 


THE LITTLE DUKE 229 

the porch, looking at the sun shining with soft 
declining beams on the arches and columns. 
They spoke together of that burial at Rouen, and 
of the silver key; the Abbot delighting to tell, 
over and over again, all the good deeds and good 
sayings of William Long Sword. 

As they sat, a man, also very old and shriv¬ 
elled and bent, came up to the cloister gate, with 
the tottering, feeble step of one pursued beyond 
his strength, coming to take sanctuary. 

“What can be the crime of one so aged and 
feeble?” said the Duke, in surprise. 

At the sight of him, a look of terror shot from 
the old man’s eye. He clasped his hands to¬ 
gether, and turned as if to flee; then, finding 
himself incapable of escape, he threw himself 
on the ground before him. 

“Mercy, mercy! Noble, most noble Duke!” 
was all he said. 

“Rise up—kneel not to me. I cannot brook 
this from one who might be my father,” said 
Richard, trying to raise him; but at those words 
the old man groaned and crouched lower still. 


230 THE LITTLE DUKE 

“Who art thou?” said the Duke. “In this 
holy place thou art secure, be thy deed what it 
may. Speak!—who art thou?” 

“Dost thou not know me?” said the suppliant. 
“Promise mercy, ere thou dost hear my name.” 

“I have seen that face under a helmet,” said 
the Duke. “Thou art Arnulf of Flanders!” 

There was a deep silence. 

“And wherefore art thou here?” 

“I delayed to own the French King Hugh. 
He has taken my towns and ravaged my lands. 
Each Frenchman and each Norman vows to slay 
me, in revenge for your wrongs, Lord Duke. I 
have been driven hither and thither, in fear of 
my life, till I thought of the renown of Duke 
Richard, not merely the most fearless, but the 
most merciful of Princes. I sought to come 
hither, trusting that, when the holy Father Abbot 
beheld my bitter repentance, he would intercede 
for me with you, most noble Prince, for my 
safety and forgiveness. Oh, gallant Duke, for¬ 
give and spare!” 

“Rise up, Arnulf,” said Richard. “Where the 


THE LITTLE DUKE 231 

hand of the Lord hath stricken, it is not for man 
to exact his own reckoning. My father’s death 
has been long forgiven, and what you may have 
planned against myself has, by the blessing of 
Heaven, been brought to nought. From Nor¬ 
mans at least you are safe; and it shall be my 
work to ensure your pardon from my brother 
the King. Come into the refectory: you need 
refreshment. The Lord Abbot makes you wel¬ 
come.” 17 

Tears of gratitude and true repentance choked 
Arnulf s speech, and he allowed himself to be 
raised from the ground, and was forced to accept 
the support of the Duke’s arm. 

The venerable Abbot slowly rose, and held up 
his hand in an attitude of blessing: 

“The blessing of a merciful God be upon the 
sinner who turneth from his evil way; and ten 
thousand blessings of pardon and peace are 
already on the head of him who hath stretched 
out his hand to forgive and aid him who was 
once his most grievous foe!” 


THE END 





















NOTES 


/ 


I 


NOTES 


CHAPTER I. 

Page 5. 

1. Richard’s place of education was Bayeux; for, 
as Duke William says in the rhymed Chronicle of 
Normandy,— 

“Si a Roem le faz garder 
E norir, gaires longement 
II ne saura parlier neiant 
Daneis, kar nul n l’i parole. 

Si voil qu’il seit a tele escole 
Qu l 5 en le sache endoctriner 
Que as Daneis sache parler. 

Ci ne sevent riens fors Romanz 
Mais a Baieux en a tanz 
Qui ne sevent si Daneis non.” 

Page 10. 

2. Bernard was founder of the family of Harcourt of 
Nuneham. Ferrieres, the ancestor of that of Ferrars. 

Page 12. 

3. In the same Chronicle, William Longsworth directs 
that,— 

“Tant seit apris qu’il lise un bref 

Kar ceo ne li ert pas trop gref.” 

235 


236 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


Page 14. 

4. Hako of Norway was educated by Ethelstane of 
England. It was Foulques le Bon, the contemporary 
Count of Anjou, who, when derided by Louis IV. for 
serving in the choir of Tours, wrote the following retort: 
“The Count of Anjou to the King of France. Apprenez, 
Monseigneur, qu’un roi sans lettres est une ane couronne.” 

Page 16. 

5. The Banner of Normandy was a cross till William 
the Conqueror adopted the lion. 


CHAPTER II. 

Page 26. 

6. “Sire, soies mon escus, soies mes defendemens.” 
Histoire des Dues de Normandie (Michel). 

Page 34. 

7. The Cathedral was afterwards built by Richard 
himself. 


CHAPTER III. 

Page 44. 

8. Sus le maistre autel del iglise 
Li unt sa feaute juree. 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


237 


Page 52. 

9. Une clef d’argent unt trovee 
A sun braiol estreit noee. 

Tout la gent se merveillont 
Que cete clef signifiont. 

* * * 5{c 

Ni la cuoule e l’estamine 
En aveit il en un archete, 

Que disfermeront ceste clavete 
De sol itant ert tresorier 
Kar nul tresor n’vait plus cher. 

The history of the adventure of Jumieges is literally 
true, as is Martin’s refusal to admit the Duke to the 
cloister:— 

Dun ne t’a Deus mis e pose 
Prince gardain de sainte iglise 
E cur tenir leial justise. 


CHAPTER IV. 

1 

Page 58. 

10. An attack, in which Riouf, Vicomte du Cotentin, 
placed Normandy in the utmost danger. He was de¬ 
feated on the banks of the Seine, in a field still called 
the “Pre de Battaille,” on the very day of Richard’s 
birth; so that the Te Deum was sung at once for the 
victory and the birth of the heir of Normandy. 


238 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


CHAPTER V. 

Page 95. 

ll. “Biaus Segnors, vees chi vo segneur, je ne le vous 
voel tolir, mais je estoie venus en ceste ville, prendre 
consel a vous, comment je poroie vengier la mort son 
pere, qui me rapiela d’Engletiere. II me fist roi, il me 
fist avoir l’amour le roi’ d’Alemaigne, il leva mon fil de 
fons, il me fist toz les biens, et jou en renderai au fill le 
guerredon se je puis. 7 ’— Michel. 


CHAPTER VII. 

Page 141. 

12. In a battle fought with Lothaire at Charmenil, 
Richard saved the life of Walter the huntsman, who had 
been with him from his youth. 

Page 142. 

13. At fourteen years of age, Richard was betrothed 
to Eumacette of Paris, then but eight years old. In such 
esteem did Hugues la Blanc hold his son-in-law, that, 
on his death-bed, he committed his son Hugues Capet 
to his guardianship, though the Duke was then scarcely 
above twenty, proposing him as the model of wisdom and 
of chivalry. 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


^39 


Page 149. 

14. “Osmons, qui l’enfant ensengnoit Ten mena i jour 
en riviere, et quant il revint, la reine Gerberge dist que 
se il jamais l’enmenait fors des inurs, elle li ferait les jeix 
crever.”— Michel. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

Page 177. 

15. “Gules, two wings conjoined in lure, or,” is the 
original coat of St. Maur, or Seymour, said to be derived 
from Osmond de Centeville, who assumed them in 
honour of his flight with Duke Richard. His direct 
descendants in Normandy were the Marquises of Osmond, 
whose arms were gules, two wings ermine. In 1789 there 
were two survivors of the line of Centeville, one a Canon 
of Notre Dame, the other a Chevalier de St. Louis, who 
died childless. 

Page 178. 

16. Harald of Norway, who made a vow never to trim 
his hair till he had made himself sole king of the country. 
The war lasted ten years, and he thus might well come 
to deserve the title of Horrid-locks, which was changed 
to that of Harfagre, or fair-haired, when he celebrated 
his final victory, by going into a bath at More, and com¬ 
mitting his shaggy hair to be cut and arranged by his 
friend Jarl Rognwald, father of Rollo. 


240 


THE LITTLE DUKE 


CONCLUSION. 

Page 231. 

17. Richard obtained for Arnulf the restitution of 
Arras, and several other Flemish towns. He died eight 
years afterwards, in 996, leaving several children, among 
whom his daughter Emma is connected with English his¬ 
tory, by her marriage, first, with Ethelred the Unready, 
and secondly, with Knute, the grandson of his firm friend 
and ally, Harald Blue-tooth. His son was Richard, 
called the Good; his grandson, Robert the Magnificent; 
his great-grandson, William the Conqueror, who brought 
the Norman race to England. Few names in history 
shine with so consistent a lustre as that of Richard; at 
first the little Duke, afterwards Richard aux longues 
jambes, but always Richard sans peur. This little sketch 
has only brought forward the perils of his childhood, 
but his early manhood was likewise full of adventures, 
in which he always proved himself brave, honourable, 
pious, and forbearing. But for these our readers must 
search for themselves into early French history, where 
all they will find concerning our hero will only tend to 
exalt his character. 

















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